#i can only aspire to yearn and pine as hard as him

[hirakiyois]

i think for any dating show to be worth anything, they need a real yearner in there and since his man 2 had junseong, an s tier yearner with a major in pining and a minor in flirting like a victorian man, literally nothing else may ever compare again

[zodiyack]

Teenage Dream

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, small-ish angst, suggestive/adult themes

Words: 983

(Series) Summary: A woman, in his life prior to the war, has suddenly reentered Tommy’s life, leaving him just as longing as she did when he were just a teen. A romance blossomed and wilted long ago, but the garden is being watered again. Thomas is falling for her, again.

Theme Song For The Series: Teenage Dream (cover?) by T. Rex

Note: New addition, sometimes there’ll be a theme song? Idk- anyways, I might as well just make this into a series. I have plans for it 👀👀 I also intend to write my first Tommy smut in this series...wish me luck!

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @fandom-puff, @simonsbluee, @redspaceace-writes, @stuckysslag, @marquelapage, @peakyxtommy, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @psychkunox, @jenepleurepasbaby, @darling-i-read-it​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders | Cillian Murphy Masterlist

Part I. Part II. Part III.

Thomas Michael Shelby died in the war. After the war, a new Tommy was born. He had battle scars and a mysterious aura around him that drew dozens upon dozens in. A new man became a man of fame and longing. As a regular man before the war, he was indeed pined for by many, but as a newly transformed man after the war, he grew heavy with a variety suitors. They never voiced their want for the Birmingham gangster, instead whispering amongst themselves with hushed giggles.

Tommy never acknowledged the suitors, a woman already under his arm before he set off for the war. Coming back almost as a completely different person, he no longer had her by his side. The war was hard on him and the people whom held a special place in his life.

Although, now, he faced a new challenge. A dreadfully familiar challenge.

And he came to meet it at the Garrison. Of all places, Tommy’s life had to rid him of his luck in his own fucking bar. He’d just stepped out to conversate with a few people of his interest- mostly potential business partners and aspiring peaky men, but he had little to no knowledge that she would be here.

That she would be walking around with harmless and peaceful intentions in a dress that practically put emphasis on the words he already knew she was. Angel. Queen. Goddess.

That she would unintentionally steal his heart for the second time. And she would do so while he leaned against the bar, completely oblivious to what was to come.

“Tommy?” He turned instantly in response to the call of his name. ‘Fuck,’ he swore the second his blue eyes met her e/c orbs. 

“Y/n.” Tommy greeted her with a nod of his head, “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same to you, Thomas.” Her eyes glided up and down his form a couple times, trailing as to take every detail of him into mind. To say Tommy didn’t do the same unto her form would be blasphemy. “I seldom see you around anymore.” Her brows knitted, eyes beginning to sting as they filled with water.

“Yes- well, no- I’m here almost every day. My brothers and I are in the private section.”

“Ah, that clears quite a number of things up. Have you had a chance to stop by my mother’s flower stand at the market yet?” She’d told him of her mother’s business a few months ago. Tommy did indeed stop by to purchase flowers intended for Y/n, but they never found their way to her soft hands.

“Sadly not. I’m afraid I’ve been too caught up in business nowadays.” Tommy tried to avoid diving too deep into the topic of his absence. However, as per usual as of recently, life seemed to pull him out of his comfort zone.

“Why is that? Is it because of me?”

He was quick to interject, stunning both Y/n and himself. “No! N-no. I just...I’m suppose I’ve just been busy. You know? Peaky work and all.” His exterior returned to the stone cold emotionless shield in no time. It was safe to say that Y/n was certainly not impressed.

“You can say that, Thomas, but, be warned, it’s not ideal to lie to me.” Y/n huffed and walked past him, bumping her shoulder into his. The moment the door slammed shut, Tommy cursed at himself under his breath for the second time that day.

Everyone was sitting in silence, the wisest of the company in the quiet bar minding their own and keeping their gaze to themselves. The not so wise few, however, stared at Tommy and the door. He turned, feeling their eyes burn into the back of his skull, piercing the flesh of his back with their nosiness.

“Fuck off before you lose your eyes.” Tommy grunted loudly before making his way to the private room. This was not at all what he expected to come of today. 

Tommy Shelby had no weaknesses. 

Even as he was drunkenly stumbling up the stairs and landing in bed with a prostitute, trying with all of his might, using every possible solution he could think up, to get his mind of off Y/n, Tommy wasn’t at the mercy of anything. Nothing and no one could make Tommy fucking Shelby drop to his knees and plead.

...But fuck, he had to admit, she looked amazing. She looked fucking divine.

Tommy swore, if God was real, he both despised and loved him for this. He wanted to scream, fight, curse at, destroy everything in his path- but at the same time, he wanted to embrace them tightly, cry the happiest tears he’d ever cry, thank them over and over again. He wanted to praise whatever being made this happen, because he had his Y/n back.

But he didn’t. He didn’t have her back, not yet.

Explicit scenarios ran through his mind, lust overwhelming him instantaneously. He had to do something about it. About both things. Though, as much as he’d like to, he could not take her right this moment. The urge to take her on every surface left unquenched of it’s sinful thirst had Tommy spiraling. He thought he would’ve collapsed had it not been for the help of a random woman.

But she didn’t satisfy the true cravings of his carnal desires. No, no she did not. Only one woman on the entire earth itself could put the sex yearning beast inside of him to rest. One woman of whom he did not have, not yet anyways.

He thought of her whilst he slept with another woman. And he thought of her whilst he cursed at himself for falling this hard. Tommy Shelby had one weakness. The peaky blinders could not afford weakness, and yet, she was one. She was a weakness, and she had to be dealt with.

[pawprintsmoon]

Henry has no clue; The Aftermath

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31306808/chapters/77401784

Once Alex leans into the kiss, the prince is royally screwed. An immense energy encompasses them, and he loses his breath along with all his remaining sensibilities. He pulls Alex’s hair, eliciting the sweetest, smallest sound. If he doesn’t stop right now, he won’t be able to stop at all.

“Fuck,” Henry swears, pulling back. Apparently, he still has an ounce of sense after all, or at least an ounce of self-preservation. “I’m just, shit. I’m sorry.”

Snow crunches beneath his stumbling feet as he practically runs away from the freshly snogged boy. The boy who must be having a total identity crisis. Even drunk, he could taste Alex’s confused wanting and a yearning that might even match his own. Impossible. The type of impossible that makes you question your interpretation of reality.

The humid heat and festive noises of the Gala overwhelm him as he re-enters the White House. He is sweating under his wool coat and his collar is too tight around his throat. The champagne in his system is tilting the floor, and it’s too much. Where the fuck is Pez?

Eventually, he finds his best friend between June and Nora, all dancing scandalously close to each other. It’s a testament to Pez’s loyalty that as soon as he looks at Henry, he exits the dancefloor, bowing to the ladies.

“What did you do?” Pez asks, leaning close to talk over the music.

“The most foolish thing possible.” He grabs Pez’s arm. “We have to go.”

After a beat, Pez nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

They walk through the party together, Pez’s presence keeping him from unravelling completely. It’s unlikely that Henry is effectively hiding his emotions, what with the drinking and kissing and panicking. Hopefully everyone around them is too intoxicated to notice.

“So, are we just getting some air or are we calling it a night?” Pez asks as they meet their PPOs at the front door. “Should I call a car to take us to the hotel?”

“No.” He imagines Alex showing up at their hotel the next morning, hungover and demanding answers. “No, we’re going home.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.” Henry’s throat is dry and his eyes are unforgivably wet. “Please.”

Pez stares at him, presumably assessing the severity of the situation, before nodding again.

“Okay, I’ll call a car to take us to the airport,” Pez says, pulling out his phone. “And as soon as we board the plane you are telling me everything.”

Within ten minutes, Shaun arrives with their luggage, a shiny black car, and three burly PPOs. Within two hours they are flying over the Atlantic Ocean, Henry pacing up and down the aisle of their private jet while Pez sips champagne.

"What the hell, Hen?" Pez says at last. Henry had been monologuing his panic spirals since they’d boarded the plane and is finally taking a breath.

"It just kind of happened?" Henry replies. He had fucked up, real bad this time.

"Well, to be completely honest with you, that was too fucking awesome!".

"You mean I did the right thing?" Henry asks, disbelief coloring his face. He isn’t sure if he’s asking approval of his choice to kiss Alex or his choice to run away afterwards.

"I don't know, Hen,” Pez says in an apologetic tone. “All I know about Alexander Claremont-Diaz is that you’re obsessed with him. This was bound to happen eventually, right?"

Henry has no clue how to answer, so he sighs and starts his pacing again. He knows he isn't going to sleep tonight, maybe not ever if he has a say in it. Alex might murder him in his sleep, even if he is protected by PPOs all the bloody time. He makes a mental note to ask Shaan to keep an eye out for Alex and his transatlantic flights.

…

"So yeah that happened." Henry finishes telling last night's events to his therapist who sports an impassive expression.

"Henry, why are you so afraid of Alex's reaction? For all you know he might feel the same way," Shannon says. The sincerity and calm in her voice almost soothes his racing heart.

"Because I do know he feels the same way, but he wasn't ready to know that. His obliviousness was the only thing saving us from falling together; the only thing stopping me from losing control. But then I lost control anyways because he’s just so bloody dense! It’s torture. Hell, both Nora and June have caught on. He’s going to be the last person to figure out he is queer! And I don’t, well, I shouldn’t have pushed it. Rash and careless.” Henry is rambling, but isn’t that the point of therapy? “Sometimes I think I reread Jane Austin too much, because I can’t help pining. Fantasizing. I thought, sure, he’ll see our mutual attraction eventually, and I can wait, and generally, or I can resist making idiotic choices I like to think I’m patient, but-"

He stops speaking abruptly and looks away from her sharp gaze. Even after so many years of therapy, it's still hard for him to talk about his feelings.

"But what Henry?" Shannon gently prods him.

"But I was...I got jealous when I saw them kissing and I just couldn't wait any longer for him to be ready. I know it was not fair, but I’ve known for years now.” He sighs. “I was actually just waiting for Pez to have his fun so we could leave. But...but Alex- he came outside looking for me and he was infuriating and couldn’t take a hint. I just couldn't stop myself. God, I'm such an idiot."

"Henry, we have talked about this before. Not everything is your fault. You need to understand that.” She pauses as if to give him an opportunity to agree with her. When he doesn’t, she continues, “And you told me Alex kissed you back so how can you be sure that he doesn't know that he’s queer?"

"Because I know Alex. I’m his best friend, we’ve talked for hours on end and he’s an obliviously stupid prat and I'm in love with him!" Henry snaps, but Shannon already has an answer ready for that.

"Yes Henry, but it doesn't mean that it was a mistake. You may be in love, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about him and his relationship with his sexuality. You aren’t a mind reader. Maybe he’s just playing dumb, and it’s a farce just like yours. The difference is you appear heterosexual while he appears to be oblivious. You can't know for sure."

That gives Henry something to think about, and he goes quiet for several moments.

Could it be that Alex acting so oblivious was just for the public? But that couldn't be. He knows Alex, knows him, knows him. Not only from the months of constant texting and late-night phone calls but also from countless tabloids and magazines. It didn’t feel like Alex was hiding anything from him. But who knows? Maybe he did it so that he could be himself but still not be himself. Maybe, he could enjoy the queerness but pretend not to know in order to save his political career?

No, that is not the Alexander Gabriel Claremont Diaz, he has come to know. He would be out and proud if he knew. Henry suddenly registers the fact that he is overthinking again when Shannon calls his name.

"Yes, Shannon?" Henry asks politely. Apparently she’d been speaking, but he has no idea what she was saying.

“You can tell me what you’re thinking, you know. That’s literally my job.” She smiles wryly and he grants her a weak laugh. “I was just saying that you can’t possibly try to know what he’s thinking about the kiss, or where he is with his sexuality.”

“Exactly! That’s the other thing.” Henry shakes his head. “Maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time. I thought I knew what he wanted, and that I knew what I wanted, but now I don’t know anything. Maybe Alex is just a very flirty guy. Maybe it’s just an American thing. I haven’t been friends with an American before-”

“Henry”

“- and he was drunk and I kissed him and he probably thinks I took advantage. At the very least, I ran away like a scared twelve-year-old.”

“Let’s try to take a non-judgemental stance here,” suggests Shannon gently. “And for now, let’s just imagine a hypothetical. What if you were right all along, and he really does like you? That’s very much possible, so let’s explore what that would mean, yeah?

Henry shrugs noncommittally.

“You mentioned a couple of weeks ago that you think that if you two get too close you’ll be doomed,” she continues. “Do you still think that?”

“Well, yeah,” replies Henry, looking at his hands. “If he likes me -which I’m not sure he does anymore- then inevitably he’ll get sick of me. I like him so, so much, you know? He might be attracted to me, but he can’t possibly like me the way I like him. And even if by some horrible miracle he does like me back, then what? I’m a bloody prince and he’s an aspiring politician, and there’s no way it wouldn’t end in disaster. The whole world would be looking at us. I’m just… I’m…”

“You’re afraid of getting hurt.”

“I… I guess. Yeah. I feel like I’m about to fall off a cliff, holding onto the unstable rocks, and I have no idea where I’ll land.” Henry chuckled a little at his cliche metaphor. “He must think I’m a complete tosser.”

“Henry,” she gives him that Therapist Look. “You can’t read minds. Journal on that topic this week?”

Henry sighs and nods, letting that sink in. She has said it before, numerous times, and Henry never quite believes her.

They sit in silence before Shannon redirects the conversation.

"When are you meeting Alex again?"

That's an easy question, Henry has known the answer ever since he left D.C. He answers immediately, "Oh never."

"Henry," Shannon reprimands.

"No, you don't get it. I'm going to be murdered if I so much as go within 10 feet near Alex."

"No.” She’s holding back a laugh as she tries to look stern. “The answer is that you're going to the state dinner and you're going to talk to Alex like a mature adult and listen to what he says instead of guessing what he’s thinking. Meanwhile, I want you to think about what we discussed today and tell me next week what you might want to say to him."

"Hour's up then?" Henry asks, because he suddenly can't wait to get out of Shannon’s office. He needs time to think about everything. Or maybe he needs time to avoid thinking about anything.

"We have five more minutes, but if you don't have anything to add today, we can end early." Shannon smiles warmly at him and he knows that if he wishes to continue she wouldn’t mind, but right now he can't. Enough talking of emotions for one eternity, thank you.

So he leaves and as he hurries to the car he texts Shaan: SOS I need about a million boxes of Jaffa Cakes from the nearest corner shop.

Then, sliding into the back seat: Please.

…

The weeks pass by quickly with Henry trying his best to ignore Alex's texts and trying to convince everyone that he oughtn’t to go to the state dinner in D.C. No one listens to him, not Shannon or even Pez. Not even his own sister, rather Bea tries to make him see reason as to why he should go.

It's all 'you never know,’ 'just trust me, Hen' and other bits of vague encouragement. Predictably, Bea decides to drop Henry off at the airport herself so he can't escape at the last minute. When he accuses her of this, however, she’s all 'Can’t a girl escort her dear younger brother to the airport, or what?’

As they leave Kensington palace she explicitly instructs his PPOs that Henry should at all costs stay in America for the allotted time and should not be allowed back even a minute too soon. Shaan, for some reason, seems extremely happy to hear those instructions and can't stop smiling. Henry scowls at him whenever he sees him, thinking that he is Henry's personal equerry. It’s a lot.

"Do I really have to, Bea?" he asks her as they near the airport.

"Henry, you know this is important and by that, I do not mean the state dinner. That can go fuck itself for all I care, but you need to talk to Alex. Hiding from him like this is doing no one any good. Talk to him, see what he says and do not overthink this, Hen please." Bea squeezes his hand lightly as the car stops.

They walk silently side by side to the plane where Bea hugs him and sees him off.

As the plane starts to take off, the panic that had been sedated by her hug starts to grow again, fiercer than ever. Henry keeps repeating the same phrase throughout the flight.

Don't overthink this. It's going to be okay.

[askintothevoids]

The Epilogue:

Roman and Virgil:

They never did get married, because they didn’t want to. Virgil believes it to be a british social construct to control women and the lower class, and Roman believes marriage to be bad luck.

They did get into that huge funky war that we were talking about, and had to put Babe with Protection. After weeks of convincing, Valentine, Mac-Kenzie, and Junius fought by Virgil and Roman’s side, and they won after 5 years of fighting.

Virgil fulfilled his lifelong dream of making Bonner regret his words, and plunged his mother’s dagger into his chest. Something about Bonner that Virgil never mentioned was the fact that the man often shared the same words as his former husband, so perhaps that fueled his anger. After a lot of crying, Virgil came to the conclusion that maybe he’d leave the fighting to Angie, and hire a royal therapist.

There was more to Virgil’s story than that though, he did raise Babe with his beloved partner, Roman, after the war. He made an excellent father. Anne even came back and apologized, earning her role back into Virgil’s and his son’s life. He even got to see his nephews more often.

Seeing that his son is now only 12 years away from being a full fledged adult (to him that isn’t very long), Virgil now has to see that Babe is very different from other children. Honestly, he never thought his own very very dead mother would be assisting in the parenting of his child, but hey, Virgil has to remember that he isn’t always right, even if he can see the future.

Meanwhile Roman pursued his love for music and theatre, he even opened a music program for Oteriphanne, showing the lovely folks the beauty of music that isn’t just only about killing the French and Brits in order to stop deculturalization of their land (though that’s not a bad topic, Roman literally just wanted 14th century vampires to enjoy Spice Girls and it worked).

He obviously, but admittedly very awkwardly, learned how to parent a child. Roman wasn’t as picture perfect as he would’ve liked to be, he did after all accidentally make his son cry many times. Like Virgil, he now sees that their kid is different. His son’s ears are full of words that he can’t understand, but hopes to try his best to ease Babe’s worries and hardships in life.

Through five years of virgous studying, Roman became a quarter fluent in Pterannan. With even more studying and training, he finally became a fully trained Knight and earned his spot next to Virgil with his forementioned music program (turns out teaching a population several new skills, means he bettered the population which is a requirement to become a king when you're not blood related to royalty).

Still there’s somethings that Roman still regrets, he never did come to an understanding with his stepfather, who was his namesake. Nor does he see Remus and his husband as often as he wishes he did. And he kinda wants to buy a cow.

Even after being together for almost 10 years, they still love each other, and yes, Virgil still calls a phone, a magic box because some things never change.

Patton:

After he and Logan adopted the children from the Dragonwitch au that they accidently orphaned, Patton certainly was trying his best to keep going, and he did a pretty alright job.

Patton single handedly traveled across the country from Florida to Indiana with four small children whose identities he had to hide along his.

Once he had made it to the David-Dase residence, he explained what had happened and asked for help, and here’s what happened.

Nicholas and James owned property in rural Saskatchewan, which they had inherited from Jane Phoebe David (James’ deceased mother) and never really knew what to do with it. So in order to keep their son’s husband and their new grandchildren safe, James and Nicholas let Patton and their grandchildren live there. It was a good spot for them, it kept the reporters away from Patton and kept people away from Daniel, Jane, Harper and Buddy.

After receiving help from James and Nicholas, Patton had to figure out how to explain his disappearance to the police so that he could gain some form of normality, and a good enough job to support his growing family.

Stuff didn’t exactly go well at first. Still grieving over his separation from Logan, he did often find it hard to smile for his children, nor did he find it easy to explain to them that they couldn’t out in public without being hidden from the world’s view. It didn’t help when his O’Pa (Janus Van Den Bosch-Brzozowski) passed away from a deteriorating body, it was for the best, but it hurt to lose another parent.

He kept going though. His brother, Patton Reyes-Baker, moved in with him and got a job helping a local beekeeper. It wasn’t so bad, grief can strengthen some bonds. His step father, Remus, visited every so often, it was clear that he probably wouldn’t be around much longer either.

He’s doing a pretty good job raising those kids. Still it doesn’t help that Patton wishes he did it with his beloved. There have been many long nights of waiting and crying. There’s a good chance that Patton won’t move on until old age, which could be a good thing for a certain someone. Overall, if he were to describe it, it’s like the worst nightmare and the best dream ever at the same time.

Patton did get to open that diner, he did get to take his puppies home with him, and he did teach his kids how to ride bikes (except Buddy), but it still wasn’t the same. For all he cares, he’s still a married man.

Hymnthian:

Being one of the oldest motherfuckers ever, Hymnthian is still kicking it. Under Virgil and Roman’s rule, he’s pretty happy. He does find some common ground with his great (times a couple hundreds) grandchild though. Babe’s remarkable ability to hear the dead often comes in handy for a grieving widower. In return for hearing what his dead wife has to say, he teaches Babe how to play To-Ouch, an Oterian instrument.

Janus and Remus:

As you might've heard earlier, Janus passed away. It’s important to remember that death is an important part of life. In Janus’ case, they were fine with it. After an aspiring career as a ballerina and potter, not being able to use your hands or foot can often be depressing. When their body finally gave out, Janus figured it best if their sister took their place. Janus died comfortably and happily. What else can I say that will convince you? Death isn’t always a bad thing.

Remus O’Malley-Gator was a different story. After the death of Janus, he found himself once again lost. He visited Patton, Patton, and his step-grandkids every so often. Remus spent most of time adventuring, looking for some kind of fulfillment. I suppose that sounds bad, but I always write a bittersweet ending.

Camila and Lotte:

After spending most of her adult life in the void, Camila was beginning to feel hopeless. Her sons were already grown and had found their soulmates, while she had still had nothing. Camila wandered for a while, universe after universe, she turned up with nothing once again.

With Janus having passed, their replacement would soon have to come in. And well, she was certainly surprised. Camila had no idea Janus had a younger sister! Lotte had been frozen for over 200 years, and arrived fresh from the fridge at the ripe old age of 48.

Camila had her fair share of trying to tell this beautiful, intelligent, strong woman that she was from a soulmate universe and that Lotte was her long awaited soulmate. Let’s just say, it took her a couple years.

Lotte had her share of pining as well. I mean, Camila is an equally beautiful, intelligent, strong woman who was tall (every short lesbian’s weakness).

She found her footing as her sibling’s replacement eventually, while she didn’t wield a shepherd's crook but having arms of pure steel sure did come handy when dealing with the dangers of the void.

Eventually, you know that their had to be an equally cute lesbian void wedding, where Patton and Roman became cousins, so that’s cool.

Logan:

As the only void dweller that actually only lives in the void, his life, honestly, sucks.

As the years go by, Logan’s hair only gets grayer and his yearning only grows stronger. He builds his tough exterior up once more, with some dull hope still intact. Logan knows the probability of never seeing his husband and kids again, and lets the gnawing feeling eat away at him.

But you know what? He did get to be cool Uncle Logan (his Ultra Secret Oterian Code Name was Protection) for about five years. He loved the shit out of Babe, even taught that boy some french and how to clear his mind even when people’s thoughts are louder than all shit.

Then he had to give Babe back to Virgil and Roman, knowing he should take the offer to live in Oteriphanne, he did.

Nothing became of it, he’s just a guy in a country full of vampires. There’s nothing there for him after all. Logan knows Babe isn’t his to parent, and chooses to keep his distance so he doesn’t crowd Roman and Virgil. Maybe in a few years, he’ll risk his life. For now, he’ll just become a grizzled middle aged man.

[essaysoneverything]

to the ones I’ve loved, could have loved, and will one day love

The first boy I loved was disguised as a man. Big and tall and almost strong. He drove a car. He had a credit card. He had a name and face that people recognized. He was 18. I was 15. I was lucky. That’s what everyone told me anyways. First their eyes told me how surprised they were that I had managed to get him, and then they loudly told me not to do anything to make him leave. 

My first taste of love was tangled in a bitterness so strong it changed my tastebuds forever. I didn’t look right. I didn’t speak right. I didn’t please him well enough. “Don’t do anything to make him leave” played on a loop in my mind. He had to hurt me because I wasn’t doing it right. He had to say those disgusting words to me because I needed to hear them so I’d be better next time. He had to find other girls because I wasn’t right. There were endless other girls for him, but no one else would have me. I believed him. When I finally left, I pretended to be a woman just as he pretended to be a man. Watch me look ugly. Watch me speak loudly. Watch me sit with my feet up. Watch me please another. I spent so long pretending I was grown that when I finally woke up, I really was.

The next ones were fine. Mostly. Some whose hearts I broke, some who broke mine, and some where our hearts were never involved at all. One passed me little slips of paper with drawings of creatures that we took turns adding features to until they were a mystical mix of his imagination and mine. One drove so slowly and safely I had to stop myself from grabbing the wheel and pushing his knee down to press the gas. Another drove so recklessly I had to close my eyes and pray to a god I don’t even know exists. One I danced with so wildly and made me laugh harder than anyone else ever has. One asked for a mixed CD he made me as a birthday gift back when we broke up. One insisted I was the only one in the world who could heal him so he flew to me, slept on my couch for a week, cried on my shoulder over his new girlfriend and left me $17.50 with a note saying “you’re the realest. See you when I see you” beside a wet towel and a pile of dirty sheets on my couch. One I thought for sure I could sip hibiscus tea on the edge of that creek putting flowers in his hair and listening to him read Irish poetry for the rest of my life.

One man I once imagined myself falling in love with feels more like a dream than a memory now. It’s hard to decipher what was real and what my brain has created trying to protect me. He had the soul of a 1940s French novelist in a fresh young body. His skin was always warm to the touch. He was a gentleman. Or at least he had the genuine intention of one day being one. The name of his cologne matched perfectly to who he was. I forget what it was called now, but it was something mysterious and sexy and sneaky. I think he saw me as exactly who I want to be. At first anyway. An artist. An empath. Someone passionate. Someone who works hard. I felt magical and beautiful around him. Comfortable. At first anyway. He was as close to the human embodiment of Icarus as anyone I have ever met. I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach him. Sometimes my arms weren’t long enough to pull him back down to me. My hands burnt from the hot wax dripping from his wings. Every word he spoke had just a hint of the lingering melody from the language spoken where he was born. It was like pure, warm honey in my ears. Romance that I had only read about. He really was one of the most beautiful things I have ever felt. 

I pretended not to notice when I saw his phone light up with tiny red hearts as he half-drunkenly snuck away from me. The air left my lungs when I felt him silently decide that he wanted to go home to her that night. It was a deafening shift. My body stung in the way that only happens when your blood doesn't know where to go to heal you first, so it floods everywhere all at once and sets you on fire from the inside. In that moment, I was standing completely alone in that crowded room, a thousand miles from him or anyone else. I was so embarrassed. I barely knew him, I should’t have cared so much, but I did. He never promised me I’d be his only one. He never promised me anything in fact, I knew that but I ignored that truth and let my hunger for him take over. We played pretend with each other for one more day after that. We are both terrible liars. By the time I turned around to pick a fig to feed him, he was gone and the heaviness of the truth finally soaked all the way through my bones.

He wasn’t gentle with my heart in the way his soft voice suggested he would be or how I imagine he wants to be someday. Maybe he is with other women. The end was cold and quick and then completely silent. Just as he had entered my life, quickly and surprisingly, he left in the exact same way. Knowing that while I was thinking about him, he was thinking about her stung for a long time. We were living in completely different cosmic realms in the same moments. When my six year old student asked me why my smile looked different, I told him I was sick of the rain. I am a terrible liar. 

I suspect I was only a soft place to land. An open ear and a body that was “different” as he called it. A temporary escape from reality. Something to tide him over. I am often the gentleness that people want a taste of. They drink me in until they are drunk on my tenderness and are freshly untangled, ready to leave again. I know this is innate in me and I like knowing that I exude the feeling of a safe shelter, but I am working on not letting that be my only identity anymore. I can’t be a home for tangled pain belonging to people who only intend on being strangers. For the ones I adore, I will untangle forever. 

It took time to forgive myself (and silently ask for forgiveness from him) for building him up to be someone made of pure gold. Someone beyond impossible for anyone to ever live up to. To acknowledge that I saw his eyes as mirrors showing me exactly what I wished to see instead of what was real. To hear words and believe them to be true. To relearn how to trust myself to trust again. To understand that is it okay not to be chosen. To understand that the solidity of roots sometimes outweighs the enchantment of the fleeting petals. 

I sometimes wonder if he ever thinks about me. If he does, I wonder what he remembers? I wonder what impression I left on him, or if I really did at all. Enough to float back down to me in the summertime and cover me in kisses and ‘I miss yous’ for a brief and blissful moment. Enough that feeling his warm, sun kissed skin and tasting his lips, salty from the ocean, instantly put a tiny crack in my freshly healed heart. He gave me an out but I didn’t take it. I wanted to see if it could be different this time. I could tell by the way he touched my eyelashes that he missed me. He asked me what I was thinking about before he kissed me. His lips were on mine before I could answer. A life jacket made of ice.

When I turned around to watch him wave to me as I walked down that forest path, barefoot, paint still wet, I knew that as much as I wished it wasn’t true, he was gone again. I could just feel it. I didn’t make the cut again. The drive was too long. The city was too much. He said everything felt dreamy. I meant him and he meant everything but me. The same flooding fire burned inside me when I had to force my frozen fingers to send him a note asking him not to drift back to me unless he felt sure of what he was able to bring to a connection with me. I finally know my worth and the level of respect and effort I deserve from the people in my life. I need connection rooted in friendship and trust where I am never afraid that every time will be the last. That every kiss will be the last. Every word will be the final one. 

I will never convince or plead for anyone to come back to me (no matter the depth of my want to) because I can only fight for what fights for me now. Whether in friendship or lust or love or anything else, I can only yearn for what yearns for me. I have spent countless hours pining for apathetic souls in my lifetime. I wont do that to myself again. 

I still think about him once in a while. I hope he will always keep his beautiful, dreamy, spontaneous, sparkling eyed passion. Maybe I’ll see him again one day and we’ll meet as the gentleman and gentlewoman we both aspired to be when we first met. Or maybe the universe only brought him to me as the embodiment of important lesson I needed to learn.

The next person I love will bring me apricots or plums or cherries from their trees and tell me truths and make me laugh and walk on uneven sand for me. They will be steadfast and present. I will be the same for them. We will untangle each other, equally. No need to convince. No need to plead. No need to tether. Just sun soaked sweetness. Rooted.

[seizasa-a]

These are Hard Times for Dreamers &&. Love Lost Believers (   ALL MUSES // HARRY POTTER AU   )

Below the read more is a summary of each muse’s role in this AU. Ages and occupations may change according to the plot of any threads written in this verse.

TOBIRAMA.

House: Slytherin Year/Age: Fifth/15-16 (Prefect) Familiar: White fennec fox Wand: Maple wood, unicorn hair core, 10 ¾", hard flexibility Patronus: Rat

Although they are commonly regarded as vermin or pests, rats have impressive traits that signify them as worthy opponents, including sociability, resourcefulness, and ambition. Despite their timidness, rats are known to be stubborn and full of devious ways. Thus, they should be treated with caution.

One of the few to break the mould Slytherin has crafted for itself throughout its history as a house of evildoers and ne’er-do-wells, Tobirama is a pillar of blind justice, though his drive and ambition leave little room to question his rightful Hogwarts house. He aspires to become an inventor of spells, determined to learn everything there is to learn about magic and how it works. Above even that, though, he longs to make a name for himself that stands alone from “Hashirama’s little brother”. He respects and, to a degree, admires his brother’s achievements in the wizarding world, but he’s never been one to settle for walking in the footsteps of someone else.

MADARA.

House: Ravenclaw Year/Age: Sixth/16-17 Familiar: Gyrfalcon Wand: Ebony wood, thestral tail hair core, 12", unbending flexibility Patronus: White stallion

Those with the white stallion patronus possess a strong sense of self. It is difficult to convince them to turn away from personal beliefs or change who they are. Strength and durability in character make the white stallion especially formidable compared to the conjurers of other horse type patronus. However, those who wield the white stallion can often be provocative and rub people up the way.

Madara is but a young wizard trying to find his path in life. He detests the supremacist ideology held by nearly all “purebloods”, largely because the Uchiha are a branch family of the Otsutsuki and are still treated as lesser to this day. Their distant Senju cousins don’t receive the same treatment due to their famous contributions to all of wizardkind in the form of both magical and legislative inventions and advancements. Both the Senju and Uchiha became branch families when their ancestors “tainted” the bloodline with muggle blood. Madara has resented the Otsutsuki for as long as he can remember and he dreams of one day absolving the Uchiha name by abolishing the widespread elitist pureblood propaganda that has plagued the wizarding world for centuries.

TETSUJIN.

House: Ravenclaw Age: 40 Familiar: Siamese Cat Wand: Ebony wood, dragon heartstring core, 11 ¼", rigid flexibility Patronus: Hyena

Often given a bad reputation, hyenas are cunning hunters and scavengers that know what they have to do to survive in the animal kingdom. They live and hunt in packs/clans and are very social animals. They often communicate with those in their clans by making a variety of noises, including the “laughter” they are so famous for. Hyenas are loyal, creative, and fierce.

Tetsujin was Ravenclaw’s poster boy of idle curiosity and devotion to his studies during his years at Hogwarts, so it was no surprise that he was Head Boy in his seventh year. He’d dabbled in such a wide array of magical genres that he didn’t have a clear idea of what he wanted to do until his last year of school. He’d known he wanted to work for the Ministry of Magic since the summer following his fifth year, but the specific position he wanted didn’t come to him for some time. Having achieved his latent desires, he now works as an Obliviator for the Ministry, though few know of this occupation. He doubles as Hogwarts’ professor of Ghoul Studies and only the Headmaster knows of his second job. He’s been assigned to keep an eye on the students should any issues with confidentiality arise.

JIRAIYA.

House: Gryffindor Age: 54 Familiar: Natterjack toad Wand: Silver Lime wood, phoenix feather core, 13 ¾", quite bendy flexibility Patronus: Badger

The recognizable mascot of Hufflepuff House, badgers represent determination. Badgers mostly keep to themselves but are aggressive when threatened. Connected to the earth, the badger is grounded and celebrates individuality. This creature’s stubbornness and instinct to protect make it a formidable enemy for Dementors!

In the glory of his youth, Jiraiya was fondly known as “the Bastard of Hufflepuff”, a title that began in mockery but became a moniker of great pride for its owner. It had been no secret that his muggle father was a deadbeat and that his witch mother had never wanted to give birth to him, but growing up an orphan only strengthened Jiraiya’s resolve to find his own family. He’s still very close friends with some of those from his Hogwarts house, as well as some from the others. He’d made a point of becoming everyone’s friend during his school years, and while he didn’t succeed by a long shot, he still made some everlasting connections that he wouldn’t trade for the world. Currently he’s an accomplished author of magical erotica and spends the rest of his time managing a small inn in Hogsmeade called Hiffle & Piffle Inn.

HINATA.

House: Hufflepuff Year/Age: Fifth/15-16 (Prefect) Familiar: Mini rex rabbit Wand: Cypress wood, dragon heartstring core, 10 ¼", quite bendy flexibility Patronus: Doe

As the Patronus of Severus Snape and Lily Potter, the doe is fiercely protective of its loved ones, as displayed through its caring and nurturing nature. The doe is also representative of gentleness yet strong determination, and with its high level of intuition and sensitivity, it battles life’s challenges with the utmost grace and vigilance.

As the heiress of the pureblooded Hyuga family, Hinata has been taught since birth to be graceful, dignified, and leaderly. She is decidedly none of those things due to a predisposition toward clumsiness and anxiety amoung other flaws. She’s just as disappointed in herself as her family is, though she hopes that by her seventh year at Hogwarts, she’ll have learned to become to woman they want her to be. At the same time, however, she secretly yearns for an escape from her life as little more than an heiress. She wants to explore herself and her possibilities beyond a duty to her family. She just needs a push in the right direction.

KAGAMI.

House: Hufflepuff Age: 23 Familiar: Ferret Wand: Maple wood, phoenix feather core, 10", pliant flexibility Patronus: Dolphin

Intelligence and sociability are among the main attributes of the dolphin. Also known for their playfulness and loyalty, dolphins live and work together in groups to aid the sick and injured and to defend each other from predators. Its incredible intelligence is put to good use in the form of solving complex problems and other such challenges. The dolphin does not enjoy dull, routine activities, so keeping busy with interesting tasks is a must!

Kagami actually hails from Mahotokoro in Japan and he is a professional Quidditch player for the Toyohashi Tengu. His team’s championships eventually led him to visit Hogwarts in England, where he giddily requested to wear the Sorting Hat out of pure curiosity as to what house he would be in. Once he was assigned Hufflepuff, he was offered a tour of the common rooms, which he gracefully accepted. He’s made similar requests all across the globe, ever so happy to see what the different magic schools were like on the inside. It was during his stay at Hogwarts for a scrimmage between one of their Quidditch teams and his that his wand broke and he had to order a new one from Ollivander. He’s quite fond of it and would say that it’s quite fond of him as well.

INDRA.

House: Slytherin Year/Age: Seventh/17-18 Familiar: Maine coon Wand: Pine wood, basilisk horn core, 12 ½", rigid flexibility Patronus: Dragon

One of the most powerful and formidable creatures of the magical world, dragons are ambitious and dominant. With the ability to breathe fire, they quickly assert themselves, garnering both fear and respect from those around them. They are unafraid to take risks and prefer to live by their own set of rules. They are quick to lead and do not back down from a challenge. Dragons are strong in their convictions and will stand for what they believe is right. Those with a dragon for a patronus are sure to be fierce fighters, and the Dementors better be ready for a challenge!

Known Parselmouth and heir apparent to a family of notoriously pureblooded Death Eaters, many Hogwarts students regard Indra as a Voldemort groupie, with respect to his wealthy status, of course. He has yet to make his stance clear on either his family’s affiliation with the Death Eaters or Voldemort himself, so it’s become a hot topic for gossip and rumours throughout the school. He shares an unnerving aura of stoicism and ruthlessness with his maine coon familiar, whose eyes follow everyone who dares come too close to his owner. Despite being a dead ringer for Slytherin’s reputation of villainy types, his goals and ambitions are a mystery. He largely keeps to himself and any rumour of his being seen willingly socializing are just that—rumours.

RYUZETSU.

House: Gryffindor Year/Age: Fifth/15-16 Familiar: Chinchilla Wand: Sycamore wood, unicorn hair core, 11 ½", unbending flexibility Patronus: Siberian cat

Siberian cats are perfect as patronuses. Fearless yet easygoing, they seem to always know when their humans need them for support or comfort. They can be quiet, with soft melodic purrs and chirps. While these may not be the cats to chase down a Dementor, they will stay with you, protecting and calming you until the Dementor fades away.

Having witnessed the death of her childhood best friend at a young age, Ryuzetsu has enjoyed, more or less, the company of thestrals for the majority of her life. She finds comfort in their presence as if they were remnants of Muku keeping an eye on her. Her mother and father head the family business of dragon keeping, a career she’s very much interested in taking up after graduating from Hogwarts. She’s always felt a certain kinship with dragons for their strength and ferocity, striving to become a strong and ferocious woman of her own.

[littlemisskookie]

Fly Away

Fly Away Ship: Namjoon | Reader Description: You and your boyfriend have one last night together before his flight in the morning. Warning: Slight Angst, Intercourse, Oral, Dry Humping, Cum Play?  Word Count: 3,417 A/N: Inspired by Fly Away by Jojo and Two Birds by Regina Spektor. Old but I listen to them when I’m feeling nostalgic! This is my last update for now, until my vacation’s over!

You knew this day was coming. From the very beginning, Namjoon was a man who chased the horizon, who was constantly looking to the next big thing. He was an aspiring rapper, already doing some work for the underground industry, and you knew that eventually his hard work, ambition, and talent would drag him away from you.

You were different from your boyfriend, however. You had no desire to go out to see the world because for you all opportunities you needed were right there. You had no desire to leave your boyfriend, your family, your friends. You had a great job, and you were perfectly comfortable doing what you were at the time. You were content.

You and Namjoon were like opposites. He saw new opportunities and offers everywhere he looked, with every path he might take. You, on the other hand, simply saw failure. He was the optimist; you were the pessimist.

You remember how you two were on a date to see the stars, and Namjoon asked you why you adored the stars so much, perhaps expecting a cheesy answer. Instead, your response was, "Because it reminds me that no matter how far we stretch our arms, king or beggar, there are some things we'll never be able to reach."

He only blinked in surprise, unsure how to respond. Sure, most guys wouldn't exactly get a boner from a statement like that, but that was one of the things that drew Namjoon to you. You didn't care if your opinion was well-received or if it sounded pessimistic. You were brutally honest and didn't beat around the bush, a person who stated her opinion bluntly if asked instead of just lying about what you want to hear, and that's what Namjoon needed.

He got an opportunity from a big entertainment CEO to come to Seoul and become an idol, practically guaranteeing that if he worked hard enough he would become one of the most famous rappers in all of Korea, and possibly even the world. It was an opportunity Namjoon couldn't miss out on, and both of you knew with his incredible talent and ambition in the big city, he'd have to get somewhere.

Both of you did agree on one thing though, that neither of you believed in long distance relationships. It was something you two agreed early on in the relationship, years ago when it all began, and your opinions frankly hadn't changed. Neither of you would be able to last with the guilt or longing for one another, pining for someone miles away. It worked for some people, but it wouldn't work for you.

You always had a sneaking suspicion the situation would come up though, and true enough, it did. Namjoon would be having busy schedules- too busy to visit you. He'd be too tired from all of the work to speak with you properly, and he wouldn't have time for a relationship. Besides, when your significant other was far away, either of you could miss out on fantastic opportunities.

You would be too afraid of holding him back from his dream. You couldn't visit him, and you were too content with your current situation to live with him in the big city.

Namjoon's flight left tomorrow, and you knew once that plane was in the air, you were no longer able to call him yours.

"Y/N?" you hear him call. Your eyes were blankly staring at his suitcase, already pre-packed and ready to leave tomorrow. Forever. This tiny town couldn't possibly contain the Kim Namjoon, who'd overshadow everyone in it until it was only known as his birthplace and nothing else. Your head snaps up, looking over to your now-boyfriend, and you did your best to pull a smile on your face. The selfish side of you wanted to make him stay, to keep him with you and never let him go. But you weren't a monster, you couldn't keep him from his childhood dream.

"Yes?" His eyes showed uncertainty, wide and nervous.

"Do you- and be honest, do you think I'll make it?" he asks you.

"What kind of question is that?" you ask him, tilting your head to the side. "I have no doubts."

He let out a small breath. "Do you really? Or are you just saying that because that's what I want to hear?"

"Since when have I lied to you?" you scoffed. "I believe in you, Namjoon. I really do."

He smiled, coming closer to you until you were in his arms, and he offered a tender kiss, his thick lips pressed against yours. He looked at you lovingly, his eyes soulful. "Thanks, babe."

"I'm just telling the truth," you smiled. An awkward air set around the two of you for a few seconds, the tension that both of you weren't sure how to address getting thicker with each passing second, and Namjoon pressed his forehead against yours.

"Y/N, I know I'm going to be leaving, but I want you to know I love you," Namjoon whispers, his hands coming to hold yours.

You close your eyes. "I know," escapes from your lips. The quiet words settle between the two of you, and you pull your hands and his up to your chest, taking a deep breath. "Do you... do you think we can have one more night together? Before you have to go?"

Namjoon knew what you meant because frankly, you weren't exactly in the mood to say 'I want your pew pew one last time' or some bullshit like that. You weren't going to say something vulgar for the last night you were together. You wanted him, and you wanted your last memory of him with you to be a cherished one.

He nodded, his lips flying to yours in a silent answer. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting your lips dance with his, trying to memorize the feeling of how full and plump his lips were, and how they felt pressed against your own. Your hands slipped from his, wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, your digits threading through his hair as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

His hands travel down your back until they reach the back of your thighs, the silent command telling you to jump. You do so, wrapping your legs around his torso as he walks, and soon enough you both fall onto the bed, the springs in the mattress making you bounce. You kiss along the column of Namjoon's neck as he grinds against your core, the feeling of his sweats against your shorts making you whimper.

Your hips bucked up against his, and you worked at marking his neck, knowing you'll never be able to see how the pretty bruises bloomed along his tan skin. Namjoon grunts, his hips moving in circles, and you felt how his erection pressed against you, though the fabric strained it. The feeling sent small tingles of pleasure shooting to your sensitive core.

"No matter what, I'll never forget you," Namjoon pants, his arms pressing down on either side of your head as his lips go to the shell of your ear. "I won't forget the beautiful girl who stole my heart. I won't forget the small town where I met her, how she made me laugh, and how her eyes seemed to understand me even though we were polar opposites. And you better not forget me either, understand? I love you, I'll never forget you, or us, or anything else."

"I'll never forget you either, Namjoonie," you mewl, his humping getting more vigorous as he grinded against your clothed core. You were sure you were dripping right now, and his words made your head spin. You clung onto him, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to remember his scent as he pressed against you.

His hips bucked into yours, and your legs were spread wide, inviting the feeling of how he rubbed circles against you, the teasing manner having you aroused and needy. You didn't want to cum from dry humping, you wanted to cum from the sensation of his dick shoved in your pussy, and your name falling from his lips in a mantra.

You'd be missing out on things like this, and you knew it. But what could you do? Wait for him to come back? Things weren't that simple. He knew once the dust settled, you might not be here, waiting for him. And you knew that perhaps he'd finally reach the horizon he was chasing, or catch one of the stars between his long fingertips, and no longer feel the need to dive back to you. Especially when he had such a good view from above. Neither of you were that foolish, at least knowing who you both were, what you wanted, and what your fates were. And unfortunately, both of you knew this was where your journeys split into two separate paths.

You pressed your hand against his chest, stopping the rotation of his hips and the erection pressed against your heat with the single movement, a motion to stop what he was doing. "Namjoon," you breathed out. "Can you eat me out?"

He smiles, pressing a kiss against your temple, murmuring, "Of course, baby."

He slides off of you, taking his time to slide your underwear off as well. You watch as his eyes linger on your sex, taking in the view. Typically you'd tell him to quit staring, to get on with whatever he planned, or you'd be slightly embarrassed and have a side-thought of something being wrong. But no, you knew why he was taking his time. Because both of you knew this would be your last time.

He sunk down to his knees, arms hooking under your thighs to drag you closer to the bed, and he licks one stripe up your slit, tongue diving into the folds and tracing over your clit within a single second. You whimpered, shaking at his touch as you yearned for more. You were so sensitive, especially from the dry humping, that every graze of his tongue sent electricity coursing through your nervous system, the sensitive bunch of nerves leaving jolts throughout your body.

"Namjoon, don't tease," you pleaded, a whimper evident in your voice.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss against your thigh. "Relax, baby. Let's pretend we have all the time in the world, even if it's just for one night." His words made your heart sink, and he pressed small kisses from your thigh up to your heat, until he pressed a gentle kiss directly against your clit.

He started sucking softly, letting his tongue graze over the small nub and trace around it in circular motions. You let out small mewls, trying to remember the feeling, embedding it into your mind as his fingers dug into your thighs.

Your boyfriend's face buried into your heat, his nose pressing against your clit instead as his tongue ventured between your folds. He was lapping up all of your juices, letting it cover his chin and lips, his thick and full mouth torturing you as he kept up the work. You were sure he could smell how needy you were, and his hands dug deeper into your thighs to avoid having them squeeze around his head.

A mantra of his name left your lips as he continued, his tongue even diving into your hole, soaking in the flavor as you felt the wet muscle brush along your walls. He didn't waste too much time on that, though, letting his tongue fly back up to your clit, sucking in a harsher manner. You saw how his eyes peered at you, wanting to see your reaction as you neared your undoing under his ministrations.

You felt your orgasm rising up, the noticeable pressure building up in your lower stomach, and your fingers were curling into the sheets. It was like a spring, similar to the ones in the mattress, being stretched slowly until it could finally bounce back with full force.

"Joonie," you moaned out. "Namoonie, stop."

He pulled back, and though it's what you wanted, you silently cursed yourself as your rising orgasm started to die. He gave you a look of concern, knowing that he was doing it exactly the way you like. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, Joonie," you assure him. "I just want to cum with your cock in me, that's all."

You let the words run through his head, and a slow grin spread across his face. "As though I didn't have enough reasons to love you," he murmurs, climbing up your body and pressing a kiss, his bright and swollen. You bite on his lower lip, tugging it back and letting it snap back to him, like a spring.

A low growl erupts from his throat. "On your knees, baby, back facing me."

A tingle of excitement shoots up your spine, and you do as you're told as he slips off you to take off his pants. You get on your knees, instead of just all fours, and take off your shirt, already not wearing any bra. You hear a low hiss from Namjoon as he stares at your bare back, a lewd sound from behind you as you hear his hand running over his cock to prepare himself.

Your hands travel to your ass, spreading your cheeks apart to give him full access to your heat, letting him take in the view. You feel him slowly slide the head across your folds before directing it directly into your entrance, slowly pushing into you inch by inch

Once he filled you to the brim, his hips were slapping against your ass, thighs pounding against the back of yours as he wasted no time thrusting into you, a low groan emitting from his lips as he did so. You clung onto his hips, reaching back as you felt how hard he was pounding into you, and you tried to stabilize yourself. Namjoon realized you were feeling wobbly, and his hand traveled down to your clit, and other hand traveled up your torso to your breast, squeezing the sensitive nipple between his fingers and tugging at it.

Your mind was starting to feel blissed out, and you wondered what any other girl would be doing. Perhaps screaming at him to stay as he started packing. Perhaps screaming that they hated him at the top of their lungs because he was leaving. Because in a sense, they felt as though they weren't enough to make him stay. They wouldn't let him have his way with them, perhaps they'd hole themselves up in their room and cry, waiting for an apology for the man chasing his dreams.

But you've cried before over the dilemma, and you encouraged his path. Supported it, even. You didn't want to drag him back, keeping him in the small town you knew was suffocating him. You couldn't. You loved him too much, even if it hurt.

"Do you think I would break your heart like that because I wanted to?" he would ask. "Do you even know me?"

"I'm not even sure of that anymore," she would whisper.

But you weren't that girl. You knew you weren't. You were the one where even if it broke his heart, you wanted what was best for him. You were blunt about this, saying you knew it would hurt, but you would live with the pain. You would live with the heartache. Even if you couldn't live with him.

Namjoon was so fragile, and he always thought of you first, never himself. You wanted him to start thinking about himself for a change. When two parties are just giving and giving and neither was receiving, was it really a happy relationship? You knew if he stayed with you the both of you would end up unhappy. Him wondering what might've been and failed opportunities, and you wondering why you'd be monstrous enough to hold him back.

"I love you, baby," Namjoon reminds you, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear as shivers ran down your spine. "F-Fuck, I love you s-so much."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, and your cries of pleasure amplified with each circle his nimble fingers made against your clit. You arched your back against his chest, needy whines escaping from your lips. You turned your neck, craning it as he smashed his hot mouth against yours with bruising force, and your hand went to tangle in his hair and keep him in place, his hips still bucking wildly.

He broke away the kiss, his hot breath against yours. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he repeated in a mantra, deep groans and quick breaths between each statement. You felt the pressure in the pit of your stomach start to increase, and you whimpered, tossing your head back against his shoulder to tell him you were close. "Holy shit," you breathed.

You repeated his name in a mantra as your orgasm washed over you, and his hands flew from your nipple and clit to your hips, pounding into you roughly and harder than before. One of his hands pushed against your back, causing you to bury your face in the sheets as he went deeper into you, mounting you as he slammed into you forcefully. His hand traveled up your back and to your hair, gripping it tightly as he kept your face buried into the mattress, trying desperately to reach his own high.

You clenched your walls around him, letting him continue to pound into you forcefully, wanting him to reach his relief as well. Your fingers curled into the sheets, body rocking back and forth roughly with each thrust. He pressed harder against your head, a stream of curse words leaving his lips as you felt him pull out, his hot seed suddenly spilling over your ass as he aimed it directly at it. Your scalp feels a tingling sensation as his hand leaves it, and he lets out a moan of relief as he squeezes out every drop.

You were breathing hard, letting your face come up from the mattress, flushed and red. You looked back to Namjoon, who was breathing hard, and your minds were blissed out beyond comprehension. You rolled back, letting your back bounce against the mattress, and you tried to catch your breath.

"I love you too..." you breathed softly, knowing full and well that was your last time being intimate with the man you love.

"Next time I see you, it better be on TV, accepting an award, and with the biggest smile on your face," you say, fixing the hat he wore. The two of you were in the airport, and he was about to be off to be checked by security, leaving your loving embrace forever. Despite your hopeful words, however, tears were streaming down your cheeks.

"Y/N," he whispers, a thumb wiping away one of the tears as it got replaced by another. "If... if you want me to stay, you only have to say it. I'd do anything for you baby, and you'd only have to say the word. I'll choose you in a heartbeat."

The fact he was even offering to stay by your side, to give up on his dreams to be with you, was heart warming. You wanted to tell your frantic heart to stop beating, otherwise the one it belonged to might hear. Despite his offer, though, you shook your head.

"Joonie, this is your dream. I don't want to be the one holding you back," you say, a bittersweet smile on your face. "You belong out there, not here. You've got a bright future ahead of you, and despite everything, I'll be supporting every step. Even though you and I are destined for different futures, I'm glad fate let us meet, so that I can brag to anyone who will listen that I was once loved by the great Kim Namjoon! The legendary rapper changed the music industry as we know it, just as he did my life."

Namjoon's eyes are glassy, and he presses his lips against your cheek, letting the salty tear linger on his lips. "I'll never forget you," he promises, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You nod, wrapping your arms around him too as you whisper that you love him.

And soon enough, he was gone. Slipping from your life forever. And despite the fights between kisses and the fact that in the end, just as you suspected, you wouldn't end up together, you didn't regret a single second of it.

[spinnerprincess]

17 - Alvin/Ludger/Milla

I do not believe in love at first sight.  But god damn. (Look at you.)

It’s awful with Ludger because he doesn’t notice it, like, even a little. Probably because he’s younger than Alvin. Not so much that he feels sketchy about it, just enough that there’s a gaping hole where the words “experienced enough to notice that Alvin’s in over his goddamn head again” should be. 

Ludger is contradictory. He’s gentle and kind to Elle and generally soft-spoken, when and if he even speaks at all. Also, he fights viciously, with little hesitation or mercy, and when he’s angry it’s the kind of cold anger that can give a whole room chills, yet flip hot at a moment’s notice. 

Alvin gravitates into his orbit and it takes him a solid ten minutes to realize he’s doing that. 

“You’re pretty good,” Alvin blurts before he can tell his mouth to never do that. 

“Thanks,” Ludger says, genuinely surprised. Genuinely. Like it’s a shock to him, or something, that someone might think he’s good at what he does. 

Alvin takes a verbal shot at Elize before his mouth thinks of something else uniquely unintelligent to say about that.

By the end of day one he knows he would go to the end of the world to help Ludger find his way. What’s a little risk of life and death among pals? And it is so, so refreshing to finally have someone in his life who doesn’t know. Ludger has only ever seen him be Leia’s best friend, or a helpful if slightly awful businessman. Ludger learns, eventually, but it’s still something in the past. He can see it doesn’t fully connect.

Being around him, Ludger just sees him as a valued friend. He trusts him. He trusts him. It’s a gift Alvin can’t repay and desperately wants to live up to. 

By the end of the week, Alvin’s not, urgh, in love or anything, but he knows he’s headed down a road that’s hard to come back from. He wishes that one day he could stop yearning for impossible people at the drop of a hat.

-

It’s awful with Milla because for the longest time, he doesn’t notice it. I mean, he notices some of it, of course. There’s that whole awkward “looks exactly like Milla, who stepped on me for my own good” issue getting in the way for a while. He feels out the attraction on day one, puts in in a box, labels that box “not Milla, different person, do not even think about it,” and sets it aside.

Putting the pieces together takes a while. In his head he keeps a mental tally of the ways she’s different. That she’s less emotionally stable he figures out immediately, that it’s part of why she’s somehow more real and human to him takes him much longer. He notices that she’s vibrant and clever and snappy. He notices that she wants to create good things in the world. He notices that she’s kind to Elle, cold to Jude, and never more alight than when she’s trading barbs with him to pass the time.

All of it goes in the box. 

It’s not until right up at the end there when it hits him. She mutters something about how she never belonged here, and finds himself completely off guard when his first instinct is to reply, “Of course you belong here, you always have.” He manages to keep the lid on that one, reels in the panic. 

Milla had always felt like a distant, unreachable ideal, something amazing to aspire towards. Milla? He wants to tell her it’s okay. He wants to tell her she doesn’t have to live up to that. He feels like he could stay at her side. Like that’s a place he could be. And she could stay by his.  

And if he hadn’t been, I don’t know, his usual idiot self, he probably would have noticed it from the very start. 

He probably could have noticed it in time to say goodbye. 

-

They’re worse together. They’re the worst together.

He sees the light in Ludger’s eyes when Milla bends down a little to give Elle a bowl of soup. He sees Milla grin and brag when Ludger tells her she’s a good cook, and then wilt when somebody mentions Muzét, and then retreat into the awkward silence where her entire world used to be. And then she perks up again, just slightly, when Ludger reaches out a hand. And then she turns away. Ludger frowns.

He just wants to pick them up and shove them together. It’s so clear to him that it could be something good. They both have so many ways they need to heal. They could be sweet to each other. They could make each other feel better. They could kiss each other on each other’s faces and just be done with this stupid dance already. Maybe if they became happy enough, he could convince himself that it wasn’t also just kind of the thought that they’d be an embarrassingly, extremely attractive couple, though. 

He is trying to be a good person. It’s not easy, but he thinks he’s succeeding. He’s working on it, at least. They’re helping, even if they don’t know it. When they talk he doesn’t feel the weight of guilt still pressing against his chest. They make him feel like he could climb mountains made of the shit he’s done and will do. 

Ludger has moments of brutal honesty where he says “of course I can leave Elle with you, why wouldn’t I?” and means it and it stays with Alvin for weeks. Milla’s teasing covers the fact that she seems to hang out near him without realizing it, flinching away from the others when they talk about Milla - “the real Milla,” he hears Elize say, which is the first time he’s ever though she might be less mature than he is. It doesn’t escape his attention that she hardly ever flinches around him. If he didn’t know better, he might call the friendly banter they sometimes dip into a light form of “flirting.”

It’s excruciating when it ends.

-

By some kind of divine intervention, they come back to him. Their loss is still raw even if all he’d ever really lost was long-shot opportunity. He spends a week having heart attacks whenever he sees either of them, alive and shining.

It takes some work on his part, and theirs, but eventually, they finally do that thing where they talk out their problems. They ask him to watch Elle for a while as they work towards finally making out with each other. Elle seems to notice that he’s a little melancholy about something and decides the only solution is to leave and get ice cream and watch a princess movie. 

“Precocious” is a word he would use to describe Elle, but so is “great.”

-

He’s used to not getting things he wants and he knows his heart well enough to know that someday, after he’s been kicked enough to realize he doesn’t belong there, he’ll find someone else to pine after within about an hour of meeting them. 

This is why he’s so surprised when they ask Leia to watch Elle (Elle’s first sleepover, apparently), invite him over, and ask him to stay. He crumples into their arms when he lets himself believe that they mean it. 

-

It surprises them all when he’s the first to say I love you, but then again, he’s probably known the longest of them all. It wasn’t love at first sight, but god damn. It might as well have been. It was pretty damn close. (And it’s better than he could have ever dreamed.)