#i say smut but its like a little bit poetic and sad

[xcalciumx]

Lost | Moon Knight System x Reader

Word Count | 4.5k

Summary | When you let a broken-hearted Steven into your apartment, you never thought that this would happen. They needed comfort, you wanted to give it to them - but somewhere in the midst of it all, ‘comfort’ became something much, much more. Something it shouldn’t have.

Just like The Casanovas said, how can something so wrong, feel so right?

(Mentions of cheating. Dabble of fluff, bucket of angst and a little bit of NSFW. <33)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

It was pouring outside, the dim street lights a mere flicker in the darkness when you heard the knock at your door. The wooden spoon you’d been using to stir your dinner came to an abrupt halt, your eyebrows drawing together. You rested the spoon gently against the side of the pot, turning down the temperature on the stove before making your way towards your front door. 

It’s late. The sleeping city outside offers nothing more than the barks of restless dogs and the coo’s of awakening owls. Your footsteps against the hardwood floor of the hallway are soft, toes buried deep in a pair of fuzzy socks you’d gotten for your birthday last year. The apartment is bathed in black, the only light coming from your small kitchen. It should have been comforting, cosy even - but all it did was remind you of how lonely you really were. The knocking at your door was an anomaly in your never-changing routine, a little bit of excitement for the day. After this, you would finish making your dinner, sit down to eat it in the lounge and then you would go to bed - only to wake up in the morning and rinse and repeat all over again. 

London was supposed to be the change you needed. It was supposed to be all fun and adventure, relationships and new opportunities, but all it did was lock you in an office 24/7 and make you feel like more of a recluse than ever before. 

You’d lived here for a couple of years now, but it never got easier. For you, at least. Your sister on the other hand, whom you’d moved into London with from the homely abode of your small family farm, had had a better time. She’d gotten a job that paid well, a small house in a quiet suburb, she’d made friends, taken risks and after a year (you really tried not to roll your eyes in jealousy) had landed herself a nice, handsome fiance who worshipped the very ground she walked on. But that didn’t matter, right? You still had individuality, didn’t you? Freedom? A chance to reroute your whole life and drag yourself from the inevitable dark pit you were stuck in…?

Okay, you were miserable. So what? 

Talking of your sister, it came as a big surprise to find said fiance, Marc Spector, on the other side of your peephole. At least, you thought it was Marc Spector. Maybe it was Steven. Or the other one, Jake Lockley. To be honest, you still didn’t completely understand the whole altar thing. Your sister, in all her indifference, had never really bothered to explain it to you, but you supposed it wasn't really any of your business anyways. As long as she was happy and he (they?) were happy then who the hell cared. 

You didn’t hesitate to unlock your door, swinging it open to come face to face with one seriously frazzled looking man. 

“Hiya...”

The British accent and mumbled greeting was lost on you as you took in how he was standing, jacket sopping wet from the rain and hair flying around his head like a crazy scientist. He wouldn’t make eye contact, hunched in on himself, neck craned awkwardly downwards and foot tapping incessantly against the ground. 

You blinked at him stupidly. What in the…

“Steven?” you questioned, stepping back to usher him inside. “The hell are you doing? Are you alright?” 

You had met Steven enough times to be able to pick him from the accent. He was usually the one to appear at family gatherings and he’d been the first one your sister introduced you to when she started dating them. The downcast look haunting his face was concerning.  

“M’sorry,” he mumbled as he shuffled over the threshold, coat leaving droplets of water across your floor. “Didn’t know where else to go.” You tilted your head but didn’t reply, closing the door shut behind him. 

The both of you stood there in silence for a second, neither really knowing what to say. Finally, you found your voice.

“Let me take your coat, you look like you're one shiver away from catching a cold.” He stared wide-eyed at you but nodded mutely, handing you his drenched jacket hesitantly. You motioned for him to follow you as you made your way to your living room, chucking the coat carelessly into your laundry as you passed. As you got to the open space of your lounge, you quickly flicked on the light, embarrassed at how you seemed to be living in the darkness like a vampire. Steven didn’t say anything though and you relaxed a bit, snatching up your warm, fluffy blanket from the couch. When you turned, he was standing in the doorway, hands buried in his pockets and lips pulled into a frown. He looked rough. 

You cleared your throat, holding out the blanket awkwardly. Steven’s eyes came up from where they had been locked on the floor, staring at the offering in your hands quizzically. When he didn’t come any closer, you chose to approach him, hands carefully wrapping the fabric over his trembling shoulders. With a nervous wince, you pushed the hair splayed over his forehead back, hoping it wasn’t too intrusive. He gave a tightlipped smile at you then, his hands softly grabbing the blanket that covered him. You almost missed the quiet thanks that left his lips. 

“Yeah, right, um.” You fumbled over your words, eye darting towards where his shoes had trekked mud across the floor. You blew out a breath but didn’t comment. “Do you wanna take your shoes off and go sit on the couch or something? Um, I’ll get you something warm from the kitchen. Coffee? Tea? I could do hot chocolate? Um..”

Steven smiled at you again, this time a little more genuine. “Thank you, love. Tea would be good, if it’s not a bother. Ah,” he glanced back at where he had walked. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. You waved him off and motioned towards your small black couch. He was quick to take his shoes off, padding towards it. With a sigh, he dropped back into the pillows, hands instantly moving to run through his hair and head dropping forward. 

Before you got stuck staring at him, you quickly made your way into the kitchen, switching on the kettle. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the bubbling red of your dinner.

“Shit,” you cursed, having forgotten about the food. It probably wasn’t edible anymore, if the burnt brown of it meant anything. You sulked as you turned the stove off and moved the pot off the fading heat. As you waited for the water to boil, you took a second to look at your reflection in the microwave, realising that, damn, you kinda looked like crap right now. It was probably a good thing Steven seemed a bit too out of it to notice, not that he would have said anything even if he did see your unruly state. 

The kettle whistled and you scurried over, assessing the different boxes of tea you had spread along the wall. You loved the stuff, but you had no idea which one Steven would want. With pursed lips, you took a sachet of green tea from the previously unopened box; Steven did seem like a green tea kind of guy. 

When you came back into the living room, he was sat hunched over, his head buried in his hands. You frowned at the sight, collapsing down onto the couch next to him. He looked up as you did, eyes glossy with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Quietly, you passed him the cup.

“Thank you so much,” he murmured, blowing over the hot contents. He took a sip of the tea and a look of calm washed over his features, eyes closing momentarily before looking over to you. “How’d you know green tea was my favourite?” he joked weakly.

Your lips quirked upwards into a grin. “You just seem like a green tea kind of guy.” 

Steven smiled at that, shaking his dark curls that were now beginning to dry. 

WIth a thoughtful hum, you continued. “Personally, I can’t stand the stuff, by all means, take it home with you. Don’t tell my sister you got it from me though, she was the one who gave it to me in the first place.” With the cuppa clutched tightly between his hands, Steven paused. His mouth instantly curled into a frown. You watched it happen, hands fiddling together anxiously in your lap. “Steven,” you tried. “What happened? Why are you here?” 

His eyes closed again, but this time they were clenched tightly as though he was in pain. His lips sealed shut. 

“Steven,” you urged, but he just shook his head. You sighed. You didn’t want to push him, but when he showed up at your door in the middle of the night, soaked from head to toe and looking like death was on his heels, you couldn’t help but worry. 

You went to speak again but stopped as something in the room changed. It was barely noticeable, like a spider winding a web in the corner of a room when you weren’t watching. But it was there. Whatever it was. Steven’s back straightened, and suddenly he was staring at you. His sad, brown eyes now narrowed and cold.

You didn’t know what to say.

“Steven caught her fuckin’ another man,” said Steven. Though it wasn’t Steven, was it? No, the accent wasn’t British and the words definitely weren’t ones that would pass the reserved lips of Steven Grant. 

“Marc?” you asked. 

He smiled wryly at you. “Try again.”

Your mouth opened and closed, “Jake?” Your eyebrows knit together, fingers clenching at your side. Unlike the other two, you had only met Jake on two occasions. The first time was at some random supermarket in the middle of the night. You’d been trying to fulfil your chocolate cravings when you’d bumped into Jake, mistakenly taking him for Steven. You’d eagerly embraced him (in your defence, your sister had told you about a promotion he got at work that he’d really been wanting - and by told, you mean complained - and you thought he deserved a little bit of recognition and congratulations for it) and you very soon found out that it was in fact not Steven, if the heavy drawl and suggestive comments were anything to go by. The second time, the odder encounter of the two, Jake had shown up to your apartment, drunk out of his mind and rambling about some old Egyptian bird or something like that. Needless to say, that one warranted a quick call to your sister to come pick him up...you weren’t too sure how he even knew your address anyways.

When you registered what he had just said, your eyes widened in surprise. 

“She was cheating on you?” You shot at him in a scandalised whisper. He shrugged his large shoulders.

“Yeah.” 

“And Steven caught her doing it?” you gasp.

“Sí.”

“Oh my god.” You squeak, nearly falling off the couch in surprise. “Oh my god,” you repeat.

“Careful, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack.” The dark haired man glared at the cup in his hands before taking a small sip. His face crumpled like paper. “¡Mierda! What is this shit? You got something better? Scotch, whiskey, a beer? Dios Mío, woman.” 

You stared at him blankly, too stunned at the revelation that your sister would do something like that. Jake waved a hand at you. 

“Hello?”

“Oh my god,” you said one last time, for good measure. “Yeah, yeah I’ll get you something else. I - I’m so sorry. Wow. I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Can you tell Steven I’m sorry? That is just. Wow, I shouldn’t have pushed him about it. I, I just, wow.”

It was Jake's turn to stare at you blankly. 

“You don’t have to apologise to me, sweetheart. I hardly liked the bitch anyways.” Your eyes widened even more (if that was possible) but you kept your mouth shut. That was your sister he was talking about… “Steven was being too much of a pussy to tell you what happened,” Jake stretched back onto the couch and grinned at you. “So about that drink?”

You shot up from the couch. Right, the drink. Surely you’d have something in the fridge. Before you could hurry away to the kitchen, Jake was suddenly tugging at your shirt.

“Wait, wait, hold up,” he grunted. You looked back in confusion but he was staring across the room at a mirror hanging on your wall. “Yeah, well why don’t you come out and deal with this shit then, puta? No, no, and you - you're the one who dragged our asses here.” Jake sneered, looking mightily affronted. “Ay? I’m not making her do anything! It’s her pleasure to do this, she - “ he paused before looking up at you expectantly. “You wanna help us, don't you, sweetheart?”

You glanced around in confusion but slowly nodded your head. “I guess?”

“You see? Oh for fucks - oh my god. I’m done. No, no, deal with it yourself. Dios mío, pequeño idiota estúpido.” Jake’s chocolate eyes met yours and he smiled sarcastically. “I’ll see you around, beautiful.” 

Like a switch being flipped, Jake’s body tensed up and his cold brown eyes turned to molten lava.

The hand that had been gripping at your shirt dropped and a scowl appeared on his lips.

“You don’t have to run after Jake and Steven like a fucken’ maid, y’know.” You didn’t reply, mind-boggled. The angry brunette in front of you stood up, shrugging off the blanket that had been covering him and started pacing across the carpeted floor of your lounge. You watched it happen in shock, not knowing what had just transpired.

Before you could ask, Marc (or at least you assumed it was Marc) started muttering to himself.

You sat back down, hoping it would ground you a little. 

“Uh, Marc?” You asked. He didn’t reply, still walking around like a man possessed. “Marc,” you called again, worry evident in your voice. When he still refused to stop, you sucked in a deep breath, mustering up what little firmness you owned. “Marc!” 

He stopped and his wild eyes met yours. “Sorry…sorry.”

Your lips parted slightly. So it was him. “Sit down, Marc,” you requested softly. To your surprise, he actually listened, slumping back down onto the sofa. “I’m sorry,” you started, not really sure what to say to him at this moment.

He stared at you for a second before glancing away.

“It’s whatever. It’s not your fault.” 

You pursed your lips. “It’s still my sister who did that. And, y’know, I’m sorry for making you mad. I really was just trying to help.”

Marc looked at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “Mad? No, no I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at them. At her. At - at me.” Your mouth made an ‘o’ shape.

“If you need something…I mean, I'm no expert in relationships but I reckon you’re feeling pretty bummed right now.” 

Marc scoffed. “Bummed? My fiance was having sex with another man. I think I’m a bit more than bummed.”

You lowered your head. “You're right. Sorry.”

Across from you, Marc huffed. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t treat you like this after you let us into your home. Just -” Marc groaned, like trying to speak about his feelings was the most difficult task he’d ever been given. “I just loved her, y’know?”

You smiled sadly at him. “From what she told me, she loved you too. Loves you.”

“Yeah? Well if she loved us so much, she wouldn’t have felt the need to fuck someone else.” his full lips tugged down. “I mean, shit, sometimes it felt like she didn’t even like Jake and I. Feels like she was just with us ‘cause she wanted Steven. And even then, she took advantage of him because he was too much of a dumb, in-love idiot to know better.” 

You wanted to argue this - say something that would make him feel better, but truthfully you couldn’t. Your sister didn’t talk about them much, but when she did, it was always; Steven that and Steven this. And, more often than not, it was her complaining about something he had done. Hell, one time she had rang you up to whinge about an apparently ‘awful’ date he’d taken her on to a museum.

Honestly, you thought she was just lucky to have someone take her anywhere. 

It wasn’t that your sister was a bad person (though that was questionable after what you’d just found out), she was just a little bit spoiled with the riches of life. She got what she wanted. She got who she wanted. And clearly, she took it for granted. But even then, it was beyond you how she could do something like that to a man who, from what you had bore witness to, would give her the world. You didn’t know them very well, but from Steven’s kindness, to Marc’s dry humour and even Jake’s unparalleled charm, they seemed, to be honest, not short of the perfect fiance. 

Maybe you were a little jealous.

You said instead, not quite sure how to properly respond to Marc’s heartfelt confession, “So, no marriage then?” You worried that it might have been a tad insensitive.

 Marc cracked a sad, small smile. “No, I don't think so.” 

“That’s probably a good thing. Let me tell you, she probably would have been the biggest bridezilla to walk this earth.” Your attempt to lighten the mood didn’t go unnoticed.

“You know, one time she got pissed at me because I didn’t fluff the pillows for her after getting out of bed.”

You can’t help the laugh that bursts out of you at Marc’s unexpected words.

“Sorry, what?”

He continued in a reminiscent tone, “She said that if Steven were there, he’d have fluffed the pillows, fixed the blankets and gotten her a cup of coffee.” He raised an eyebrow at you. “I told her she could do all of that herself and threw a pillow at her face.”

Your face scrunched as you tried not to laugh again.

“Maybe it is my fault she cheated on us,” he said blandly, head dropping back against the couch as his eyes met yours. A giggle escaped your lips and you instantly clapped a hand over your mouth. “You think me being cheated on is funny?” he asked. You quickly shook your head. 

“No, no I’m sorry, Marc. It’s not funny at all. Promise.”

Marc shook his head, “Was just teasin’.”

The smile stays on his lips but his eyes drop, a hefty sigh moving his chest. When he looks at you again, he reminds you of a little boy. Lost. In need of comfort. He reminds you of yourself.

“You know, maybe Steven met the wrong sister first.” 

His cheeks raise for a second as he smiles tightly at you. For a second his words don't register, but when they do, a hue of red rushes to your cheeks.

“Thanks, Marc,” you say gently. “I really am sorry about what happened.” 

“I know,” he sighs. “I know.”

And as you sit there watching him, his dark ruffled hair and full pink lips, something painful gnaws at your stomach. Maybe Steven did meet the wrong sister first. You stand up, toes sinking into the plush carpet below.

“I know I don’t have to, but let me get you something to drink anyways.” 

-

“Marc,” you gasped as his large hands slid around your waist, pulling you deeper onto him with every thrust of his hips. “Oh, fuck.”

The softness of your bedsheets sink against your clawed grip, the wooden frame of your bed scratching up against the wall with every movement from the man on top of you.

He was everywhere. Everything. Touching, biting, kissing, loving. 

It was enough to make tears well up in your eyes. Enough to make you turn your head and conceal a quiet sob into the pillow beside you. It was enough and it was nothing all at the same time. 

How did you get here? With your legs sprawled over Marc’s strong, muscular shoulders and his warm, soft body pressed tightly against you. How did you find yourself reaching a high you’d never felt, his name falling off your lips in hurried gasps for breath and whispered sobs of ecstasy? 

He wasn’t yours. He never was.

But still, as you came, clutched tight to his body, lips pressed close to one another, just for a second, it felt like he was. Like he could’ve been. 

And shit, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt like hell.

“That’s it, baby,” he muttered into the skin of your neck, teeth pulling at whatever they could find. “Good girl, just like that. Fuck. Yeah.”

He sighed, his hands clenched into fists, breaths unhurried and heavy against you.

This could be paradise. 

You wished it was paradise.

But fuck, all you could think about was how you were the worst sister in the world.

You shouldn’t have let this happen. You shouldn’t have been so weak. When Steven showed up at your door close to tears, his large frame shivering and his eyes so wide and sad, and when Jake took control of the body for a split second, with his dry wit and crude grins and when Marc, sweet, rageful Marc, had tried to make things less awkward, had tried to act like the woman he loved didn’t just shatter his heart…you should have done what any good sister-in-law would do, you should have offered him a spot on the couch until he could sort things out and go back home. You should have comforted him, given him a shoulder to cry on, called your sister and bitten her head off for being the most ungrateful woman in the world. You should have, but you didn’t. 

You shouldn’t have given him that beer. Or the one after that. Or the four that followed. A grieving man and a shit ton of alcohol was nothing but a recipe for disaster. 

“You really gonna make me drink alone?” Marc asked, lips upturned in an inviting smirk.

And how could you say no when he looked at you like that? “Yeah, alright, just a couple. I think we both need it after tonight.”

It was more than ‘just a couple.’ 

You shouldn’t have let him touch you like he did, shouldn’t have convinced yourself you were just being a good friend. You shouldn’t have been so weak and drunk and - and stupid.

But it was too late for regrets now.

The feeling of a hand cupping your cheek dragged you out from your inner turmoil. Marc was staring at you, his dewey brown eyes fixed squarely on yours. The crinkle on his forehead told you he was confused, an expression that reminded you more of Steven than anything else. You hadn’t even noticed him fixing up the blankets around you, or putting on his briefs. It had to have been the middle of the night by now, early morning even. The last few hours had been a haze…a sweaty, passionate, pink haze. 

As your eyes roved over Marc's face, a sudden guilt churned in your stomach. You tried to rationalise it, he had come onto you, not the other way around. But you knew that it was as much your fault as it was his. You were both drunk. He was trying to forget about his fiance’s infidelity and you…

What did you want, really, in your drunkenness?

The question scared you. It scared you so much that you ground your teeth and refused to dwell on it any longer. 

“You should get some rest, Marc,” you whispered gently, eyes looking everywhere but him. He mumbled something under his breath before burrowing himself down into the white sheets of your bed, his dark locks a mess. His back rippled with muscles as he got himself comfortable and you forced yourself not to look.

This was wrong. So, so wrong.

You didn’t want to know if Marc was still tipsy, or if over the last few hours, he’d come out of the drunken fog like you had. You didn’t want to know, because if Marc really had been intoxicated the whole time - if he had been so out of it, that he could barely register who he was fucking, then that meant he didn’t mean anything he had said, or did. And that stung, just a little bit more than it should’ve - you were, after all, just his fiance's sister.

It didn’t matter now anyways, he was out cold. 

When you heard his soft snores start to fill the room, you slinked out of bed, your feet carrying you through your apartment. The chill of the late Autumn weather had you wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. 

In the bathroom, all you could do was stare. The person looking back at you with the tousled hair and red marks left a sour taste in your mouth. Marc was your sisters fiance for fucks sake. It didn’t matter if she’d cheated on him, that didn’t give you the right to just - to just, what. Fuck him? Use him to fulfil your own lonely, desperate desires?

Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Loneliness. A longing for something, or someone.  

You liked Marc, you liked Steven - hell you even liked Jake for what little you knew of him, but they were due to be wed to your sister in a couple of months. Did this not make you some sort of homewrecker? Sure, your sister had done it to him first but…but.

But nothing. You didn’t know what to think. All these feelings bubbling to the surface were too much. 

The tears caught you by surprise. What had you done? Your sister would hate you. Marc would wake up in the morning and hate you. Steven probably hated you for sleeping with Marc. You hated you right now.

You couldn’t look at yourself any longer, couldn’t stand to think about this for another second. 

You left the bathroom and headed for the couch, the place where this whole mess had started, curling yourself around your deserted blanket. You clenched your eyes shut, begging for the quiet solitude of sleep. There was too much on your mind, and…

…And god it was wrong, but the feel of his hands on you kept you awake till the first rays of morning light shone through the windows of your small apartment. 

Post nut clarity be like 

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

✧ ── 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐍.

Tagged By: @mxlevolence and @bells-of-black-sunday (thank you !! ♥

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? ━━ Robin is actually an extremely small side character in a story I've been writing and planning yada yada not important ━ But! He was just underdeveloped enough that I was spurred to challenge myself into making something new and unique to other characters. Robin's lore and his story with grief also helped me go through a rather rough time, not so much because I felt our grief was comparable, but because I had to learn and read and educate myself about what was ailing me. Creating Robin and expanding off of his very brief mention and interaction in the story was a lot of fun. I really enjoy characters that let you know what they're all about with just a few moments of dialogue, and I immediately knew what made Robin tick and what I wanted to explore with him. It was a very fun project!

is there anything you don’t like to write? ━━ I'm not particularly a big fan of writing like - in depth torture or anything like that, despite what I say I really cannot observe or write anything that's suffering, it just makes me sad. I don't really dislike writing anything besides that but smut is something that isn't my go to. I do write it but I definitely have to be in a specific mood to write it; it doesn't come as easily to me. Most of the time mine ends up being very poetic because the thought of describing all of that (especially on dash) make's me want to curl in my shell and scream. It's the catholic guilt for me man I can't escape it -

is there anything you really enjoy writing? ━━ In case Robin's personality didn't make it glaringly obvious: I'm a huge fan of psychological horror. I love seeing what can break characters and how they react to trauma - so I guess angst falls into that too! I just really enjoy exploring the human traits that characters have and that - even someone like Robin - is just a person. I enjoy Slice of Life quite a bit too - but only if it has a purpose.

how do you come up with headcanons? ━━ Oh I don't come up with anything my brain just throws ideas at me and I keep the ones that I can refine and sharpen. Robin was extremely underdeveloped when I first began writing him so I had a lot of freedom to bend him whichever way I wanted.

do you write in silence or do you play music?  ━━ I mean ... kinda? It really depends on what I'm writing. I do listen to music when writing fast paced scenes or scenes that are heavily fueled by emotion - but the emotion that envelopes a character entirely so they're not thinking. Most of the time when characters are interacting I play ambiance of whatever environment; even if its literally just liminal empty space with a little bit of wind. It helps me immerse my brain into the characters current experience.

do you plan your replies or wing them? ━━ I don't plan it in the case of sitting down with a pen and paper and crafting an outline; but throughout my day if I'm bored I tend to just wander to writing and think through different scenarios and which I think fit best. I extend it a little in my mind space and then I write it out. After that I refine it and then I read for spelling errors that inevitably makes me add more to it etc etc

do you enjoy shipping?  ━━ Yes! However I am extremely picky when it comes to shipping with Robin and it is also extremely difficult to enter into any sort of meaningful relationship with him wherein he actually cares about his partner in a genuine way. Robin is also a very manipulative individual and this makes any sort of relationship with him a growth off of something inherently wrong. I do not ship often with Robin, but when I do its always fun to see how this new emotion affects him.

what’s your alias/name?  ━━ Egg!

age? ━━ 26

birthday? ━━ May 19th

favorite color? ━━ Jade

favorite song? ━━ I have never once been able to answer this and I still cannot; so instead you'll be getting a few! Both entire albums of Darkside of the Moon and The Wall - I don't care they're one 2 hour long song idk. I have a lot of sentimental value attached to Pink Floyd and although I don't mention them often they sit highhh up there. The other bands I obsess over include: Sleep Token, Ghost, Epica, and Nightwish.

last movie you watched? ━━ Repo! The Genetic Opera ⊂◉‿◉つ

last show you watched? ━━ MLP! I'm watching it with @bells-of-black-sunday

last song you listened to? ━━ All Along the Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix

favorite food? ━━ To be honest; I don't have one! I'm not picky at all and I love exploring new dishes. Buttt if I had to pick one of my favorite categories of food then definitely seafood, and especially butterfish! I used to fish for them with my grandmother in the backwoods near my childhood home.

favorite season? ━━ Summer - I love being able to lay out in the fields by my house and plant native wildflowers throughout my area during this time ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

do you have a Tumblr best friend? ━━ Two! @bells-of-black-sunday (mwah! ♥) and @agonizedembrace (kya - )

Tagging: @agonizedembrace, @deathfxnds, @pitgritted, @steel-and-fire, @dethdvncer, @valhiir, @seekslight, @nameaprice, @manufactoredxbyxdesign, @johnnysslaughter, @burntscars, @fluxjumped, @noctumsilenced, @aquatic-hybrid, @songofsilentechoes, @thegoldentigress, @piltover-sharpshooter, @hook-and-chains, @hemoplagued, @reliving-elegy, @asktheevilstarchild

[twopoppies]

Hi! I hope it’s not too annoying of a request but I was wondering if you or your followers can think of any fics that are kinda inspiring academically, especially regarding British literature, if that makes sense? I just finished rereading Come As You Are and every time I read it, it motivates me to read more and practice my writing because I want to be more like Harry from that fic hahaha and I’m looking for more fics which evoke this feeling since I’m starting my masters in October and I need all the help I can get. Thank you so much! (I absolutely love your master post and its my go to couple times a week!)

Hi sweetheart. Hmmm... I just reblogged my Dark Academia fic rec, but other than that I think it would be fics where one or the other are writers/poets etc. Not all of these are heavy on the writing/poetry, but they're all great fics.

Make Your Words A Weapon by @helloamhere (E, 36K) I recently read this a second time and it’s even better than I remembered. I love everything this author writes. This one just really hit me hard for whatever reason. Maybe it’s the way they explore Louis’ anxiety and coping mechanisms and pain and the way he pushes people away and protects himself, but also wants someone to push back just a bit and love him despite all of that. And the way Harry is the perfect foil for all of it, while also feeling like a fully developed character himself. Yeah, it’s probably all of that. Plus soul marks! (Musician Harry/Music Journalist Louis)

Our Lives, Non Fiction by @indiaalphawhiskey (E, 114K) this is, quite literally, the best fic I’ve read in years. It’s so well written, clever, funny, emotional, and sexy. Its draw you in immediately and you’ll end up falling in love with these characters before you know it. Don’t miss this one. Harry and Louis are both authors.

An Invincible Summer by Brooklyn_Babylon / @twopoppies (E, 45K) this one is mine, I hope you like it:

Never content to stay in one place for long, a few months down south researching for his novel seemed like an idyllic, slow-paced summer to Louis. He wasn’t ready for the blistering heat, the backbreaking work of watermelon picking, or how stifling the attitudes in rural Georgia would feel. And he definitely hadn’t anticipated falling in love with the farmer’s son.

The summer of 1946 would turn out to be everything worth writing about. Farmer Harry / author Louis

Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo (E, 115K) Beautifully written, flawed characters and an emotionally engaging and ANGSTY plot. Super hot smut that made me cry like a fool. Banter, OT5 friendship, and the gritty realness of New York as a backdrop. Loved this one. Artist Harry / Author Louis

where your lips land by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite (E, 12K) Ok, I’ve recommended this one a few times and I really do love it. Anyway, I love fics where the two of them are both artists of some sort (Louis is a poet in this one, Harry is a photographer) because it allows for another layer of understanding and connection and support. I particularly love the way Louis’ tattoos are woven into this story with layered meaning. And, as always, just beautiful writing.

you’re writing lines about me by snazzyasalways (T, 4K) This is gorgeously written on that Dreamy, poetic style I happen to love. Louis is a blind poet, Harry is a baker, Harry falls in love with Louis’ words, then with him.

another hazy may by deLILah (M, 41K) Another author who writes great fic after great fic. This one has that dreamy quality I love and there’s also something about it that, at times, reminds me of a little bit of a Raymond Chandler novel. I know that’s weird...but, yeah, it does. Anyway, I love this one. Such a good read.

I would name the stars for you (I would take you there) by orphan_account (M, 91K) This is just beautifully written. Angst. Mutual pining. Dumb boys. Beautiful descriptions of art and creativity and fame and beautiful poetry.

Little Technicolor Things by scary_crow (M, 72K) This is truly one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I have ever read and it is an absolutely travesty that it’s not being talked about every day. This fic is gorgeous and poetic and romantic and heartbreaking and an explosion of metaphoric images and everything I never knew I needed but now that I have it I want to read it over and over and over.

But If This Ends by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense (E, 107K) This author referred to this fic as their “depressed vampire” fic while they were writing, and it is that. But it’s also a unique story with beautifully fleshed out characters, plot twists, and super hot smut. Go check it out! Vampire Harry / Writer Louis

24K Magic by @justalittlelouislove (E, 33K) FINALLY a category in which I can rec this author! I love everything they write, but this was the first one I’d read and it’s just great. Smooth dialogue, sexy smut, great description of character growth…just a really fun fic.

the best part of me (was always you) by @moonshinelouis-archive (E, 6K) Gorgeous writing. The descriptions of heartbreak and missing someone and still loving them were really well done. And I cried. Of course.

'Sup by MediaWhore (GA, 7K) Divorced, awkward Harry pining for silver fox Louis is a trope I never knew I needed, but I love it so much.

I Will Never Rust by stylez (E, 38K) I must have read this at least 5 years ago and I honestly don’t remember details, but my notes say “gorgeous, sad, sexy” so... I’m crossing my fingers that old me knew what she was talking about. It’s frat boy Harry so that could go either way. LOL! Student/Poet Harry.

Loyal Knight and True by rainbowninja167 / (E, 52K) Really original story, mystery and magic, great characterizations. All around a very good read!

Turning Page by purpledaisy (M, 68K) This author does a wonderful job with their characterizations which makes their fics such a pleasure to read. This one really has you rooting for curmudgeonly Louis and skittish/secretive Harry to figure their shit out and fall in love. If you like this one, make time to read this author’s fic, Walk That Mile – it’s one of my all time favorites. Sports journalist Louis.

Black with Autumn Rain by Whimsicule (T, 93K) This author is a favorite. If you like intense, creative stories, with complex characters and tight dialogue, you should read all of their fics. This one has the flavor of a Daphne du Maurier novel – dark, creepy, and moodily romantic. Plus a supernatural edge. It’s so good. Journalist Harry.

That Sounds Fake But Okay by dancingontheceiling (E, 113K) This one has a little bit of everything: Enemies to lovers, fake relationship, famous/not famous... plus, really good writing and some sexy smut scenes. Actor Louis / journalist Harry.

Sing When You're Winning by hazmesentir (NR, 91K) another one I read ages ago, but I always like this author’s writing and the premise of newly out footballer Louis and journalist intern Harry who somehow snags the interview, is such a fun one. And I don’t know why it has an NR rating, there’s plenty of smut.

feel the chemicals burn in my bloodstream by togetherwecouldbealright (M, 123K) I read this one so, so long ago that all I remember is that I loved it, that there’s some really romantic and sweet moments, and that my notes from way back when only say, “OMG this one is so good! And I’ve barely gotten to the smut!” HAHAHAHA! Journalist Harry/prince Louis (this fic has been deleted, so the link is to a download).

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 37

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 16.9k(? i think?) ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, talks of past self-harm, nothing directly graphic all mentioned through conversation, graphic depiction of a panic attack ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part four

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“I’m going to kill the king, Hyunwoo.”

“Y/N, you can’t… that’s going too far.”

“I don’t think we have a choice any longer.”

“We always have a choice, Y/N. It’s just about what you decide to do with that choice that matters. Think about why you’re doing what you’re doing, and what your intentions truly are. It’s not about revenge or payment for a crime — the crimes of his people cannot be put onto his shoulders.”

A sigh passes through your lips, one that sounds more exasperated than anything else, and Hyunwoo lifts a brow upon hearing the noise.

“This is revenge, Hyunwoo. He allowed my past to be taken, he created the law that allows the military to do that. Not to mention the other crimes he has committed — even if they are a result of him sitting idly by and watching them happen. I’m not saying Jisung is always right or that he is a saint for wanting to do this. But if Jisung won’t commit to doing it, then I’ll do it for him.”

“And we swore to find a way to get those memories back, Y/N. Don’t let this cloud your judgment. Don’t let your devotion to making Jisung happy decide your future. If this is something he wants, then he should do it himself and face the consequences on his own! It’s not a burden that you should bear as well. I know this is something you will come to regret!”

“Then you’ll have to stop me with force because I’ve already made my mind up about this. I don’t see Jisung getting in my way right now. But after all, isn’t this what he wants? He’s just too much of a coward to do the dirty work himself!”

“We both know where he stands on this, which is precisely why he’s not here. Just — please let us try one more time. I’ve spoken with a few of my off-planet contacts about this, and we have one last idea that might reverse the effects of the serum. You know how difficult this is; the military keeps such a tight wrap on everything about the serum. It’s near impossible to just get a spare vial, and even harder to examine how it works with test subjects while still being ethical. We are trying our best, I promise, just please hold out a little while longer. Jisung is getting things set up now… so please… just come with me and try before you do anything drastic.”

The man extends a hand, palm facing towards the ceiling and fingers outstretched for you to take. There’s hope in his eyes, a hope you haven’t seen from him in a long time, and that look is what brings your feet forward. You place your palm over his and curl your fingers tight around the side of his hand. He squeezes back as a small grin overtakes his lips.

“If this doesn’t work, then you know what I have to do, Hyunwoo.”

“I know,” he whispers. The hope in his eyes flickers a little, like a flame hit by a gust of wind. “In that case, I’ll do whatever I have to so that you don’t come to regret that decision.”

“Hey, get up. It’s go time.”

You wake with a start, not fully come out of the memory that paints the insides of your eyelids until you look around at your surroundings. Yeosang seems to be the one who woke you seeing as his hand is still outstretched to your arm. The sight of him brings you back to reality and reminds you of where you are and what exactly is going on. Jongho sits on your other side, dressed in nicer clothes than you’ve ever seen him wear before — a pleated and pristine navy suit complete with a bright yellow tie and hair gelled back on his head. Yeosang too wears a somewhat expensive garb although he appears more natural in the silk tunic covering his torso. His naturally dark roots are starting to peek through the blond near his scalp, accentuating the harsh part down the middle of his head.

Despite the fact that both look relatively harmless in this state, you know they each have weapons hidden somewhere on their person underneath that formal wear, just as you do with the knives strapped over your thighs under the skirt attached to your waist. Such an outfit like yours is something you hardly agreed to — it was moreso an insistence on Seonghwa’s part to at least dress the part (although he had to listen to some of your incessant nagging about how you could never fight in a dress so he had to settle on finding a substitute in the form of a jumpsuit with a skirt wrapped around the back. Yet the more you pick at the seams and touch the fabric, the more you recall the none too pleasant conversation you and Seonghwa shared as you were preparing to leave for the mission.

“Perhaps I do have an eye for beauty after all, or is it that you simply look breathtaking in anything?” Seonghwa stands in the doorway to your bedroom, not a mind for privacy as he watches you struggle to tug the zipper of your suit up.

“Can’t even breathe on my own, huh?” You huff out as you drop the zipper in defeat.

“I’ve already seen every inch of you, have I not? There’s nothing to hide that I haven’t seen before,” Seonghwa says through a laugh. He watches your cheeks flush with color before dropping his arms to his side and coming closer to you. He remains wordless as he pulls your zipper up for you, smoothing the fabric under his fingers down once it’s pulled up to your neck. “It suits you. Things like this, I mean. The silk makes you look… softer, yet the color combination of black and white makes you look lethal. Perfect definition of beauty, no? That something so delicate could also kill you? A wonderful dichotomy in my eyes.”

“Someone is in a poetic mood today.” You don’t hide the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, but Seonghwa doesn’t seem all too bothered by your show of faux-annoyance. Instead, his hands find your hips and turn you to face him directly, staring so intently into your eyes with his own dark ones that you lose the rest of your retort.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to go on this mission so desperately but that didn’t quite work out.” You’re quick to shake your head, already in the midst of denying his words before he even finishes his sentence.

“It’s alright. I’ll have Yeosang and Jongho there with me.”

“I would go if only Hongjoong would let me bu—” The thought cuts short as you place a hand over his forearm.

“Seonghwa, it’s okay. Hongjoong is right to have you stay here while you’re not 100% better. And you can both keep an eye on Jisung this way. We’ll bring Wooyoung back as quickly as possible, I swear.” Instead of consoling the man, your words seem to have an opposite effect as he drops his gaze to the floor.

“If I were stronger, this wouldn’t even be an issue. You should not have had to waste so much time having to look after my fragile and weak mental state when you could have caught up to the ship sooner and had all three of them back in one go.”

“This is what we’re working with, Hwa. It has nothing to do with your welfare. We still would have been too late regardless of whether that night had happened or not. So please — it will all work out and be okay. It has to.”

Seonghwa’s smile is quaint, a small twitch of his lips, then he’s leaning in to close the distance between your lips. You lift your hand to push hard against his chest, furthering that distance before he gets the chance to meet your lips with his.

“I just put on this black lipstick and you already want to mess it up? How rude,” you scoff. That isn’t a real reason, and you both know it, and you only solidify that further when you speak next before biting your tongue. “You shouldn’t push it right now. I still haven’t forgiven you for not fighting my decision to go with Jisung. Besides wasn’t the decision to… stop whatever this is mutual?”

“It was, of course,” he murmurs back, not quite meeting your eyes. “I am merely a creature of habit, so it will take some time for me to adjust to this change. But… Y/N, might I be so bold as to ask you something?”

“Hm, isn’t that a question right there?”

“I’ll take that as a yes then?” You regard him with a small nod but pull away so that his hands drop to his sides again. “Were any of the feelings you had for me something real and tangible? Not just because of what we are and that comfort of both being Sirens, I mean.”

You should have known he would bring this up eventually, especially with how the two of you are constantly dancing around each other and the topic. Still, you aren’t ready for it.

“I… don’t think I know the answer to that question, but even if I did, I-I might not be able to answer with complete honesty.” The smile that comes to paint Seonghwa’s lips is nothing short of sad and painful, not quite reaching his bright eyes with its usual mirth.

“It’s a conversation I wish for us to have one day, but I too fear that I might not be able to be completely honest either. Perhaps — perhaps we got a little too caught up in the heat of things without truly thinking about why we were doing the things we were doing.”

“Why did you do it then? I was the one who gave the initial push, I started things, I claim responsibility for that, but you pulled right back. So why?”

“I have found time to think about such things quite a bit lately since I was left in the medbay alone for so long; however, now is not the time to talk about that as it would take too long. Has Wooyoung brought you back yet?”

“No, not since the night in the medbay. But San very clearly said three days until they would land on Dorado, and it’s been six since then. They should be there by now, and the deals should have gone through. Wooyoung’s was to be immediate after all.” Seonghwa’s smile drops into a half-hearted scowl.

“Without Wooyoung on the inside, we will have no way of knowing where San and Mingi are.”

“Unless Jisung decides to be kind with his information.” You run a hand through your hair, mussing the already down tresses enough to be somewhat noticeable. “We’ll have to make do.” Seonghwa stretches across the empty space between you

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Tell the others good luck from me, and please… be careful? No unnecessary risks if you can avoid them. I’d like to see you all back in one piece.”

Reality swoops in on you as Jongho places a firm hand over your thigh.

“You alright? I can practically feel you thinking so hard.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Just… wondering about the mission.”

“It’ll be okay,” Jongho murmurs, squeezing at your leg a little tighter. “It’s a straightforward mission — easy in and out.”

“Hopefully.” Yeosang is the one to hum the word but he doesn’t look at either of you as he speaks. “Once we’re in, I’ll talk to the main desk and ask for someone with Wooyoung’s general appearance. It’ll be a bit difficult because they will have given a new name — something a prostitute would have. I’m not sure how many people in there will have similar appearances to Wooyoung but we’ll have to do our best. You two remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes,” you nod. “Follow suit, wait fifteen minutes for you to pass through the reception area, then ask the same thing. A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin. All prostitutes have collar so it won’t be Wooyoung’s defining feature any longer.” The recitation rolls off your tongue with ease after having heard Yeosang repeat it so many times by now. He nods in approval nonetheless.

“Remember there are cameras in each of the rooms. Don’t know how they use them but it’s something to be aware of. Hopefully, one of us will be able to come across Wooyoung, and in the case that you do?”

“We are to stay in the room with him for the allotted time, ping back to the ship and let Hongjoong know we have him, then wait for his signal,” Jongho responds. “His contact here on Dorado will be hacking their surveillance systems once we are certain that we have Wooyoung in a safe position.”

“Hongjoong sure seems to have a lot of contacts for someone who doesn’t trust people,” you murmur more to yourself than to anyone else, but Yeosang picks up on it nonetheless.

“His contacts are few and far between. This is one he has known since before he became a captain, so he holds a bit more trust with him. Back to the plan though, after his contact confirms our safety, you’ll crack a window and hop out hopefully unscathed. Remember that the Upper Echelon of Dorado is tight on security. Whoever gets Wooyoung out will have to be mindful of guards and try not to look suspicious. If any guards stop you, do not engage with violence. Simply do as they ask you to and tell them that Wooyoung is your slave. And one last thing: don’t forget we’ll be going in silent so keep a close eye on your wristbands. Understood?”

“Clear as day,” Jongho says while you offer only a hasty nod.

“Good, stay sharp then. We’ll be landing soon, and it’ll be go time immediately after that.” With that, Yeosang sits back and shuts his eyes, leaving you and Jongho to stew over the plan again in silence. At least until you decide you can’t take it anymore and turn to talk to the Berserker again.

“Are you nervous at all about the mission?”

A shrug.

“No more than usual. Recovering Wooyoung won’t be easy by any means, of course. It’s a step in the right direction, right? How are you feeling?” As though sensing your nerves, he pats your thigh a few times, and you simply stare down at the dirty floor beneath your feet.

“I feel a bit guilty in a way because I’m not too worried about the mission,” you admit, albeit quietly because you aren’t sure how please Yeosang would be to hear the words. “The only thing that is on my mind right now is how San is doing and if he’s okay.” Although you told Seonghwa otherwise, the sudden radio silence that Wooyoung has given you has made you anxious to an unspeakable degree. And not having the security of being able to see San through Wooyoung’s eyes is plaguing you more than you’d like to admit.

“I understand that,” Jongho says through a deep exhale. “I feel the same way about Mingi right now honestly. No matter how much faith and trust I have in Mingi, that fear always lingers and resides in me.”

“That’s how I feel about San. I shouldn’t be worried about him but part of me is just fearful that we won’t make it in time. That he’ll accept the serum before we can get him out.”

Jongho brings his hand up to take hold of one of yours, squeezing around your palm as tight as he can without hurting you.

“I know San better than I know anyone on the crew, besides Mingi perhaps. I’ve spent years at San’s side. He was the only person who trusted me at first and trusted me enough to let me in. That trauma he bears, the scars on his past, the red in his ledger, those lingering pains that resurfaced when the mutiny happened — I have felt them all. I spent months at the foot of his bed, taking what pain I could away for as long as I could, just existing to comfort him and help him get through even one more night. And in that myriad of emotions I felt from San, not once did I ever feel him desire to take it all away. Those scars he bears are part of him, and he treats them as such. Something like… small accessories on a bigger picture that he won’t let go of. So no matter what happens, I have confidence that San won’t let them win. He’s far too stubborn for that, his heart is too big, he has too much love in his body for such a thing. He would rather die before he forgets the crew, and that fact alone makes me confident that San will hold out.”

You are left in the wake of Jongho’s words for too long, letting them crawl under your skin and find a home there. You count the seconds that pass before your voice finds you again.

“I understand that.” Forty-one seconds. “It’s just the fear of him being hurt when I’m not around to stop it that is hard to get past.” Jongho’s smile is nothing if not soft and gentle, the epitome of understanding.

“In our line of work, that fear is always present. It’s always a possibility too, but at some point, you reach a point where you accept that sometimes, you won’t always be able to save someone from all pain. Just because you can’t prevent every ounce of pain doesn’t mean that you are doing something wrong or that you’re not doing enough.” Jongho pauses. Some emotion fills his red eyes and leaves them swimming with something unspoken. “There are some pains that we must allow to happen, no matter how much we wish to do the opposite. Even something as horrid as pain can be necessary and needed to move forward in life. Try not to dwell on it too much and focus on Wooyoung for now, yeah?”

“I’m trying my best,” you sigh and drop your head back against the seat. The second your thoughts begin to drift, you are brought back to another memory, this time one of Hongjoong’s dark office with Seonghwa at your side.

“You punched Jisung in the face?”

“Please, I let him off easy,” you huff back, ignoring the lieutenant’s slight shock in favor of finding interest in the wall.

“That’s not the important part,” Hongjoong cuts in from where he sits behind his desk. You shift to glance over the captain. “Does Jisung know anything about you being a Siren?”

“No, not that I recall,” you mutter after little thought. “I never slept with him or anything like that, and I can’t remember him ever seeing my back so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t know. Besides who would just see tattoos and immediately assume ‘Siren’?”

“Then his interest in you has nothing to do with you being a Siren?”

“Exactly, but why is that important? I can tell you why he wants me if that’s what you’re curious about.”

“We’re just eliminating suspicions right now.” Hongjoong shifts his focus to where Seonghwa stands. He wears a bit of a cocky grin as they stare at each other, both feet slung up on the edge of his desk and one brow raised. “See? Jin has nothing to do with this.”

“That doesn’t eliminate the possibility altogether!” Seonghwa retorts. A frown mars his otherwise pretty features, twisting his lips into a scowl so deep that you feel your own muscles ache at the sight of it.

“You live your life in fear of Seokjin. For what? Do you not trust me to keep you safe?”

“That isn’t it and you know it, Joong. I will not sabotage your plans simply because of what I am. That is why we keep my identity to be a closely-guarded secret yet our number one enemy knows of that identity. That is a weakness, and it’s one that you need to take seriously.”

“Why is that? Sheltering you would be more suspicious to the crew than anything else. Unless you would like to inform them of your identity? Allow me to call them all right this instant.”

“No! No, Hongjoong, I — fine. Have it your way. Keep believing that you’ll be able to fix where Jin went wrong by ignoring the issue altogether because th—”

“That’s enough.” You bristle at the tone of the captain’s voice even though he is not speaking directly to you. “I’m still on edge as well, Hwa, and I know you are as well. I know why you are too, but please have at least a little faith in me. Now, Y/N—” Hongjoong turns back to you now “—I’d like to ask about the nightmares you had that night.”

Your initial response is to inhale sharply and glance over at Seonghwa with panic boiling in your gut.

“Why do you want to know?”

All Hongjoong does is roll his eyes and drop his feet off the side of his desk. You purse your lips at the action, watching him with wary eyes as he shifts his position to prop his elbows up on the same wood.

“Seonghwa, you’re dismissed.”

“I — Captain?”

“Dismissed, Lieutenant. I need to speak with her in private.”

“Why is it something I cannot be present for?”

“That was an order, not a suggestion. Now go.” If possible, the temperature of the room would drop ten degrees. Seonghwa seems to want to retort further but he bites his lip instead. Then, he gives a quick bow at the waist and mutters a goodbye before slipping out of the office without any further issue. “What did your nightmares consist of?” Hongjoong repeats, arching a brow as he speaks this time as though it will get you to talk faster.

“You didn’t have to get me alone to ask me that, did you? What is this really about?” The questions flow without hesitation, and your second refusal to talk about the dreams draws a sigh from Hongjoong’s lips.

“Do you know anything of Seonghwa’s relationship with his mother, Y/N?” A beat of silence. You shift your weight from foot to foot, glancing away from the captain to find interest in something on the floor.

“I… did witness a few of his memories when the two of us were still with each other in the dreams, but — if you mean to ask me about his nightmares, I have nothing to offer. I didn’t see those at all.”

“No, he already told me all about those nightmares. I don’t need to know more of them,” Hongjoong exhales with a shake of his head. He draws his arms up over his chest as he talks, falling back to slump in his chair and letting his exhaustion shine through. “Initially, I was going to have Seonghwa go with Yeosang and Jongho on this mission. But now, that plan has changed and I will be sending you instead.”

“Why?”

“I can’t send Seonghwa down to Lynder unless I myself can be at his side the entire time. There is far too much of a risk if I am unable to do that.”

“Risk? Of what? He would be with Yeosang and Jongho, would he not?”

“Yet if even the barest whim overcomes him, they would have to listen to whatever he says because of his position as lieutenant. I am the only one with more power than him, and as such, he has to listen to me. If he goes to Lynder, the risk is of him abandoning the mission to seek out his mother.”

“That doesn’t sound like something he would do at all,” you counter. Both you and Hongjoong drop your chins at the same time, although yours is more of an accusatory and pointed action compared to the slumping defeat that comes over Hongjoong’s body when he lowers his head.

“I don’t know how much or what exactly you saw in Seonghwa’s memories. I do not need to know either. But something you need to know is that we have been back to Lynder exactly once since I met Seonghwa there. And that one single time, two years ago, we had to lock Seonghwa in the brig for six days straight to keep him from breaking out to kill his mother. Seonghwa tore cuts into his arms and shoulders so deep that Yunho had to come stitch him every night until we finally chained him to a wall to get him to stop. When he finally gave up on trying to break out, I went in and took the cuffs off, only for Seonghwa to choke me hard enough to fracture my neck and leave bruises that lasted for several weeks.”

“A-Ah…” The sound of your dry swallow echoes in your ears. It’s hard to imagine Seonghwa — cool, rigid, stoic, gentle and calm Seonghwa — ever being so depraved and rabid as to harm himself as well as Hongjoong. Seonghwa, whose greatest fear is losing his captain. Yet the grave expression coating Hongjoong’s delicate features remains serious and deadpan, and you know every word is one that holds a memory that is painful to recall. He’s telling the truth.

“Have you ever had that voice in your head telling you to be cruel, Y/N?”

“Of course I have,” you admit through a whisper, like the words are going to break the threads of tension hanging in the air.

“Seonghwa has lost his will and his mind to that voice time and time again, and it gave him his reputation as the Lieutenant of Death. Mingi may be a slave to a childhood which bred him to be a monster, but Seonghwa? He’s a slave to his own consciousness, the part of him that spent years trying to be perceived as an Elitist so that he could hide what he really is, someone cold and calculated without an ounce of remorse or emotion. He put his own monsters under the bed, but now he can’t get them out.”

Hongjoong sits up a bit straighter all of a sudden. His gaze is still unfocused and hazy though, refusing to look you straight in the eye. Either subconsciously or through the fog of that revisited memory, Hongjoong lifts a hand to his neck and rubs idly at the skin there.

“My Seon—Lieutenant is strong, but strength isn’t worth a damn thing when the person you’re fighting is yourself. He admitted to me once that the thought of letting that voice win is more terrifying than the act of killing his own mother. So for that reason, I can never allow such a thing to happen. Seonghwa’s demons are nothing if not rabid dogs begging for a pound of flesh, and if he can’t fight them on his own, I’ll do it for him.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” Jongho yet again brings you back to reality, most likely a bit disturbed by the way you are squeezing his hand tight enough to hurt, but he takes it without complaint. “You keep drifting out of focus.”

“Yes,” you say, filling your chest with air when you remember to breathe properly again. “Everything is fine.” Rather than responding with words, Jongho just places his other hand over your joined ones and brings them to rest on his thigh. If you listen closely enough, you’re able to hear him humming a soft melody under his breath but the rumble of the transport car covers most of the sound up. Still, it’s a relaxing sound that brings you some much-needed peace of mind for the remainder of the ride.

And as it turns out, Yeosang wasn’t bluffing when he said the three of you would be there soon because you had barely started listening to Jongho’s soft song when the car comes to a screeching halt that leaves you lurching forward.

“Alright then.” Yeosang stands first, hands smoothing down the fabric of his tunic even though it’s still perfectly in place. It’s not against his nature to get nervous or anxious, but it is still odd to witness like this. He is usually stoic in an unsettling way yet the grim expression he now wears is only accentuated by the crude shadows cast over his face. “It’s go time. Let’s get Wooyoung back in one piece, yeah?”

With that, the three of you climb out of the vehicle to be greeted by a dark and pristine city with thick clouds of smoke billowing through the air below you. Looking over the lip of the road is like looking down a cliff with the dramatic fall to the lower portion of the city. You weren’t exactly prepared to see such a drastic difference between the upper and lower echelons, yet looking over that cliff is like looking into a different city altogether with wooden buildings and decrepit warehouses that can barely hold themselves together. Where you stand with Yeosang and Jongho feels like a different world altogether with roads lined with lights and technology, tall buildings made from wood with exquisite carvings detailing the sides. From what you saw of the city in Seonghwa’s memories, Lynder has not changed one bit since he was here last.

You can’t clearly see many of the buildings below your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from wondering which one could possibly be that bar where Seonghwa met Hongjoong, if it even still exists. Jongho pulls you away from the road by the arm, tugging you along behind him as you approach a new building. The swaying wooden panel outside the door is a dead giveaway, but it’s the absurd amount of lilies trailing over the railings that tells you what this place is.

“They weren’t bluffing with the House of Lilies name,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose a bit at the overwhelming stench. Yeosang has grown alarmingly still; he lingers outside the tall double doors with a hand hovering over the brass handles without budging even an inch for far too long. You could pretend to not know why he’s hesitating, you could act like he is merely holding you back and push past him in annoyance, yet instead, you find yourself laying a hand atop his shoulder and squeezing the fabric there lightly. “No matter what happens in there or what we find in there, we will bring Wooyoung out alive.”

Yeosang releases a shaky exhale that makes his shoulder quake under your fingers.

“I know we will.” He looks past your face to make eye contact with Jongho then gives a curt nod. “Here goes the first fifteen minutes of hell.” The Elitist pushes hard against the brass handles, and the door gives way to his effort.

If you thought the smell outside the House was horrid, you don’t even know how to describe the reeking stench of flowers that hits you with the force of a tsunami. It’s thick enough for you to feel as though you are wading through a sea of flowers when in reality it’s just a strange yellow haze hanging about the interior. Yeosang doesn’t let the smell affect him in the slightest; he walks inside without missing a beat, shoulders pushed back so far it nearly hurts to see. Despite that, he walks like a prince, like someone who knows how to act in high society with ease, and for the first time, you don’t see Kang Yeosang before you. Instead, it’s Kang Minhee, the forgotten prince of Aera, who walks before you and heads for the front desk where a middle-aged woman with dramatic hair and hefty makeup stands.

“We should mingle a bit and look natural,” Jongho whispers when the two of you stop just inside the doors. “May I?” He motions to your arm with a small smile, not saying anything else and leaving you confused.

“May you…?”

“Quit being dense and give me your arm,” he huffs back and extends his elbow for you to loop your arm through, and this time, you get the hint, hooking your hand around the inside of his arm. Yeosang shifts to look back at both of you as you pass, and you offer each other discreet nods before he returns to speaking to the receptionist.

You let Jongho lead the way for the most part since you aren’t sure what you’re supposed to be doing outside of “looking normal”, although even doing that is somewhat difficult. Jongho doesn’t stray far from the entrance area until Yeosang dips into a hallway and out of sight without looking back at the two of you. Moments later your wristbands buzz, signaling that it’s time for the first fifteen-minute countdown to begin. Jongho shifts to fiddle with his wristband while you keep your hand folded over his elbow still. It gives you a chance to glance around the whorehouse without the distraction of having to act normal, but frankly, there isn’t much to see beyond the bodies filling the foyer and mingling about the lounge before you. There are flowers everywhere — probably an overabundance of them, and they aren’t just lilies as they were outside. You can’t pinpoint whether those flowers are the source of the clawingly sweet scent stuck to the insides of your nostrils or not, but that yellow fog seems partially responsible to some degree.

“You seem to know how to look like you belong in high society,” you mutter once Jongho pulls his attention back to your surroundings. A huff of laughter leaves his lips.

“It’s not because I grew up that way. I was merely an observant child who wanted to grow up and have more than what I had.” A smile cracks his stony expression. “Isn’t that what all children want?”

“I—”

Well, you wouldn’t really know, would you?

Jongho’s expression softens as he realizes what he’s said and who he has said it to, and his gaze turns apologetic seconds later. He turns to flag down one of the workers milling about with drinks, taking two glasses of what looks like wine in one hand. Jongho angles one of the half-full flutes in your direction. You take the hint with relative ease despite the clawing scent of flowers still muddling your thoughts.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” Jongho says through what seems to be a sympathetic smile. “What do you think your childhood was like? If you don’t mind talking about such things. We have time to kill after all.”

You draw your lips into a tight purse, curling them around the edge of the wine glass and pressing an imprint of your dark lipstick there. Subconsciously, your hand tightens around the inside of Jongho’s arm as well, although the Berserker doesn’t comment on the added pressure as he simply continues to regard you with the same steely and careful gaze.

“I think it must have been rather sad,” you admit after some thought. It must not be the answer Jongho was expecting at all because his brows draw together in confusion. “What kind of childhood must one have for them to willingly sell away their memories by fourteen? The more I think… about that time — when they gave me the serum — I recall fighting the doctors but I don’t think it was because I didn’t know what they were doing. I’m certain that I knew my memories would be taken from me. It was the act of them strapping me to a chair like a prisoner that frightened me.”

This time when Jongho smiles, all you can see is pain in his deep red eyes.

“I would have given anything in the universe to have my memories taken away at that age too, if it’s of any comfort to you.” He pauses to swirl the liquid in his glass, watching the red liquor dance before his eyes under the yellow haze around your bodies. “Don’t think you’re weak for wanting to forget that past. No child should ever deal with pains that strong, even if you can’t remember what they are.”

“People like you… San, Mingi… the whole crew honestly — how can I not view myself as weak in comparison? People who were given the choice but denied it and rejected it unlike me, who apparently didn’t want to be left with some shred of dignity. What did I become with that fresh slate they gave me? All I could do then was be weak, but it seems like that hasn’t changed one bit.”

Jongho won’t let up with that devastating smile, and you are about to turn away so that you don’t have to see it any longer when he finally lets it fall.

“For what it’s worth, you are rather strong in my eyes. During your fight with Jisung, I’ll admit that I tried to ease some of your pain then. It’s not something you know about — the others know of it by now so I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry for that but I have a special mutation in my genes that gives me the ability to take away and absorb emotional auras. I inherited it from one of my grandparents so it’s something I grew up learning how to use and I carried that over when I joined the crew. I attempted to do that with you because you were in so much distress and I was worried but — b-but your pain was too much for even me to bear. So before you go around calling yourself weak, you ought to give yourself more credit. Just because the pains you bear are different doesn’t mean that they are any less than the pains the rest of us bear.”

Jongho doesn’t say anything more than that; he slings his wine back in one shot like it’s nothing then places the now empty glass on a waiter’s tray as he’s passing by. You don’t touch your own, mulling over the glass as you fall deep in thought. If Jongho could feel that much from you, then it begs the question of what else he might be able to feel from you.

Can he sense that I’m a Siren too? Would he be able to tell that Seonghwa and Wooyoung are Sirens as well?

Your mind shifts to latch onto something else he said. Your pain was too much for even me to bear.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

You had been too preoccupied at the time to think about that moment until now.

“That time — did I hurt you? When you tried to take it away, did I hurt you even a little bit?”

“Nothing you did hurt me, Y/N. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you didn’t do anything. It’s something I have done time and time again for others on the crew and something I would do again as well. It’s what I’m good at, and something I was born with for a reason. If it helps even a little bit, then why would I not take the temporary pain?”

Every fiber of your being is telling you to fight those words, to tell him that it’s not worth it, your pain should not be a burden he has to bear as well, yet no words fall from your lips. Your mouth stutters uselessly without saying anything, and Jongho just keeps smiling like nothing is wrong. The clenching in your chest is not fine, however, and you force yourself to turn away from him in the hopes it will alleviate that pain. Instead, your eyes travel to a head of bright red hair that is so starkly different than anything else in the room that you have to stare right at it. It would be nothing odd or out of the ordinary to you since the crew you are now part of has such a wide array of hair colors. It would be something you look right past without much thought.

And yet you find yourself staring right at it. Right at the girl who turns to look around the lounge with red hair sweeping through the air.

You jolt.

Something hits your shoulder hard enough to tip your drink over and spill some of the red wine onto the floor. Your hand retracts from Jongho’s arm to touch the knife hidden behind the fabric of your skirt. You’re forced to pull your gaze away from the girl, finding the man who bumped into you to just be a stumbling drunk man with little sense for spatial awareness and direction. Jongho wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you a bit closer to his body. The man continues on without any regard for you or the wine he just spilled. Jongho takes your glass with his free hand, discarding it at the nearest flat surface before redirecting his focus back to you.

“It’s okay, Y/N, everything is okay.”

“I’m fine,” you murmur back, but your gaze goes straight back to where that redhead just stood.

“You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Instinct tells you to stay put and continue on with the mission, putting that familiar face to the back of your mind. But again your heart is clenching painfully in your chest, racing so fast that you feel the pounds echoing in your ears, and you know you can’t let go of her that easily. Not when she’s this close to you.

“I think I did.” You pull away from Jongho to go chasing through the crowd after that red hair, but the Berserker moves with you in a rush.

“Y/N, we can’t get off track. There’s only six minutes until it’s your turn to go to the counter.”

You wave him off with a dismissive hand rather than responding with words. Moments later, you find your target again, just as she is turning to head for the hallway that Yeosang went down not too long ago.

“Soojin?” You throw the name out as a last resort, mostly a desperate attempt to see if you are right and your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you in this heady yellow haze.

She freezes in place. It gives you just enough time to shove past the crowd and get closer to where she stands. You close your fingers around her shoulder, tugging with as little force as possible so that she turns to face you. There’s not a doubt in your mind when you see her face. She seems to recognize you as well based on the way her eyes are blown wide as saucers. The girl — well, you suppose she would be a woman by now — glances past your shoulder to look at Jongho. Her throat rolls as she swallows around nothing.

“You must have me mistaken for someone else,” Soojin whispers, bringing her gaze back down to you. She dips her head a bit then pulls away from you to head down the hall. You think back to Jisung — the threats and odd comments he made combined with the newly resurfaced memories of Hyunwoo lingering at the forefront of your mind, and you know without a shadow of a doubt that you can’t let her go this easily.

“P-Please, Soojin — I need to talk with you. It’s important, please, I have so many questions and no one else to ask.”

“I’m sure you do, little scapegoat,” she huffs back. “I actually have work to do though and a client waiting for me, so I’m not all too inclined to speak with you. I’m not sure why you came here, but I don’t think I have the answers you’re looking for either.” You don’t have a chance to keep her from leaving after that because she turns and leaves so quickly that it leaves you reeling. Jongho tugs you back by the arm, pulling you from the hallway and out into the lounge again before you can chase after her.

“What the hell was that?” He hisses under his breath.

“She — I-I knew her. She w-was my teammate, one of the p-people assigned to my unit in the military. I… I had no idea she ended up here of all places. Jongho, I have to talk to her, please, I have to. This c-could be what I need! If Jisung won’t tell me the truth, then maybe she knows something. She has to know something o-or else I—”

Your voice dies in your throat, but your unspoken desperation seems to reach Jongho nonetheless. The key to whatever memories you lost could lie in Soojin. Things happened so quickly at the end, perhaps she learned of something before leaving Eros with the others.

“She called you a scapegoat,” Jongho says. He swallows hard, Adam’s Apple bobbing with the motion. “What was that about?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten that far. You didn’t even think to question that part but it is odd and not something you recall her calling you in the past.

“I’m not sure why she would say that. All the more reason to speak to her and ask. Jongho, please!” You attempt to pull away from his grip as you speak. The Berserker doesn’t budge, too strong for you to fight like this, and he doesn’t let up even when you try to slap his hand away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” He yanks you back to him and brings his free hand up to rest on your forehead. This time, you can physically feel the panic in your bones ebbing away and being pulled to your forehead where Jongho touches you. It’s a frightening sensation but the influence he has over you takes that fear away as well, leaving you in a daze of confusion because you know you should feel bothered right now but you cannot bring yourself to feel that way even as Jongho pulls away from you. His jaw twitches just a hair, not moving much beyond that, then he grits his teeth to hiss out his next words. “Wooyoung is our mission. You have to focus. You have two minutes to get up to that counter and do your job. We can try to track down your teammate later, but not on a mission like this.”

You have it in you to at least be angry enough to tug your arm out of his grasp.

“Don’t touch my emotions like that again. I understand you trying to take my pain, and as much as I hate that and despite the thought of you taking my pains for me, this is different. Emotionally sedating me for the sake of completing a mission better is different.”

You don’t give him a chance to reply before you’re heading off for the counter where Yeosang stood not too long ago. The woman who previously occupied the space behind it has disappeared, now replaced by a young man who must be younger than you from the looks of it.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” He asks as you sidle up to the desk.

“I’d like a room, an hour’s worth.” You fumble a bit with your pockets as you try to fish a credit chip out without exposing the knife strapped to your thigh, but the boy doesn’t look up until you slide the chip across the counter.

“Of course, of course,” he hums. “Do you have any preferences for pleasure tonight?”

“A male short in stature with black hair and tanned skin,” you recite back, forcing a smile onto your lips when the boy glances up at you. He tilts his head to the side. You swallow the saliva gathering in your mouth as the stare grows unsettling then he shakes his head and speaks again.

“Would you like someone more submissive or dominant?”

“Hm? Oh, um…” That wasn’t part of the plan. Surely Yeosang would have mentioned it if he had known they would ask. But what would he have said if they asked him the same? “Um, submissive is fine, I suppose?” The boy hums again then motions towards the hallway where Yeosang and Soojin both headed down.

“Your room will be on the second floor, Room 213. Please take the stairs at the end of the hall.” He passes a keycard your way along with your credit chip, leaving you with a grin and a soft-spoken, “Your courtesan will join you shortly. Enjoy.” You bristle at his words but manage to smile a little bit as you take both the card and your chip back. You leave the counter to head for the hallway, not pausing to look back at where Jongho might be, but you ping your wristband as you go. Nothing has come in from Yeosang’s side again so it’s safe to assume he doesn’t have Wooyoung with him by now. It leaves you and Jongho with more pressure and either more or less of a chance to recover him, so you can only hope for the best as you climb the stairs to the second floor.

Room 213 is empty as expected when you slip inside, and it’s free from that odd yellow fog outside as well, so you bask in the freedom and breathe fresh air deeply while you can. It’s a basic and standard room — much more like a small hotel room than anything else from the cabinet near the door and the double bed pushed up against the wall. There’s a metal sink as well close to the window but nothing else adorns the room leaving it rather dismal and simple. Not that you expected these people to treat the courtesans with even an ounce of respect; it’s still disheartening to think of Wooyoung being stuck in such a small and cramped space without a choice.

Whatever peace you thought you could have is cruelly interrupted less than five minutes later as a series of shy knocks reach your door. You blink up from where you sit perched on the edge of the neatly made bed. Is this how Yeosang felt waiting for his door to open? You inhale sharply, heart pounding mercilessly in your throat and choking you with the strength of an actual hand. And shamefully, you can’t even bring yourself to look at the door when it slides open, too afraid of not seeing Wooyoung standing behind it.

“Y-Y/N?”

You snap your head towards the door so quickly that your neck pops with the effort, eyes blinking open faster than ever, and even when your gaze settles on him, you still can’t quite believe he’s really before you. In that moment, the two of you merely regard each other with stunned stares like neither of you can believe this is possible, and in that time, the door slides shut again to leave you together in the all too small room.

“Wooyoung.” You bring yourself to your feet, standing on shaky legs as you face him. “W-Woo—”

He cuts you short by barreling into you with such force that it knocks the air out of your lungs. The metal around his neck scrapes against your skin hard enough to cut but you pay it no mind as he squeezes his arms around your waist and releases a heart-wrenching sob into your shoulder. Reason returns to you then, bringing you to ping your wristband again; although this time you tap it three times to alert the others that you have Wooyoung with you now. There is nothing more to do after that other than to hug him back as his tears soak your neck and shoulder.

“I-I didn’t — I di-didn’t want to lose hope b-but… fuck it was s-so hard not to and I was st-starting to think I wouldn’t ever s-see you again,” Wooyoung sobs. You almost want to cry with him if not for the small blinking light in the upper corner of the room that catches your eye and sends a surge of panic through you.

“The cameras, Wooyoung. They’re still on, we need to—”

“Y-Yeah, they’re — they only c-check if you hit the button by the bed.” Wooyoung pulls back from your shoulder, at last, rubbing at his tear-stricken cheeks so hard it makes his skin blossom with red. He pauses to catch his breath, or at least steady himself enough to speak without choking on his words. “That si-signals that you’re unsatisfied so they’ll c-check and see what’s — what’s wrong before sending a new courtesan.” Wooyoung puts his hand in yours and laces your fingers without hesitation. The touch seems to offer him some more comfort that helps calm his small hiccups and cries. “Is Y-Yeosang okay?”

“He’s alright, yeah,” you whisper back through a smile. “Misses you something awful, but he’s here too. He tried to get to you first, but they must have sent someone else to him. Jongho came as well. To get you. We came to get you, Wooyoung.”

Those words make Wooyoung’s eyes well up with sickening haste. He sinks to the bed before another sob forces its way out, and you sit down beside him like the mattress might collapse if you move too quickly.

“I’m so glad. So fucking g-glad. Being in a pl-place like this without Yeosang — it’s fucking hell.” Wooyoung sinks his teeth into his lower lip just to keep it from trembling.

“Have you…” Surely it’s not a question you have any right to ask, and part of you feels like Wooyoung did need your help but merely did not want to bring you to this place, even if just to watch through his eyes. Still, you swallow the nerves and force the question out. “Have they made you work yet?”

“It’s not important whether they did or not,” Wooyoung says through a weak smile, but that tells you all you need to know. It sounds too rehearsed and monotonous, like he’s been told to say this even if only by himself. “B-But what’s the plan? How are we getting out? Is someone coming to get us?”

“Um, we’re to wait the allotted time here until we get news from one of Hongjoong’s contacts here. He’s a hacker, and he’ll take care of the surveillance system so that we can open the window and get out that way. We’ll meet Yeosang and Jongho in an alleyway not too far from here after that. Then head back to the ship on a transport car.”

“Thought of everything, huh?”

“I sure hope so.”

“It should work just fine. We’re on the second floor though, so it’ll be quite the fall. Just remember to not go face-first.” Wooyoung’s smile is infectious, and you laugh along with his jest, hand squeezing around his. “How is Seonghwa doing?”

“A-Ah, I nearly forgot you knew about that. Um, he’s alright but Hongjoong didn’t think he was well enough to come on the mission with us.”

“Captain is up then? Yeosang mentioned he’d been out for quite some time because of his injuries. That’s great news that he’s up! I — he’ll be happy to hear that I have some info about where Mingi and San are being held too. I can tell him when we’re back on the ship. B-But Seonghwa is okay otherwise?”

“Yunho said there’s no lingering signs of health issues so he’ll be okay physically. I… I have so many questions that I don’t even know where to begin.” Wooyoung’s smile stretches a bit wider.

“I assumed you would. That’s okay though; we have a full hour to use anyways, so you can ask me anything while we have the time to be alone together. I would say we could do it later when we’re back on the ship but Yeosang probably won’t let me out of his sight for even two seconds from now on. It’d be best for us to get it all out now so we don’t have to hear him scribbling in that damn notebook of his.” Wooyoung can’t hide his elation despite the teasing words, and you know that getting to see Yeosang again soon means more to him than you could ever understand. Yeosang must be feeling the same way himself, waiting out this hour with painstaking patience.

“What happened in the days you didn’t let me in? You went quiet for so long I was getting worried.”

“Ah, we shouldn’t start there,” Wooyoung murmurs, glancing down at the floor. He pauses. The breath of hesitation leaves your stomach in knots. “Nothing you want to hear, I promise. That’s why I didn’t try to bring you in. It wasn’t anything pretty, but I assure you there was nothing they could do to hurt me physically. I’m too far gone for that sort of torture. It’s… over and done with now. More scars to add to my collection, and more for Yeosang to cry over probably. We’ll both be fine. You’re probably wondering about the whole connection thing and us both being Sirens and such, right?”

“I — admittedly yes, but looking back now it seems almost obvious? I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner, I guess. But yeah, specifically that connection or whatever it is. Yeosang said he didn’t know much at all about it.”

“Right, yeah, I don’t know much myself either, to be honest.” Wooyoung presses his lips into a pout. “It’s hard to say what exactly it is. Seonghwa’s books don’t really have anything about this sort of occurrence, but what I’ve gathered from it so far is probably all that Yeosang told you. ‘There’s no place in the universe that you can hide from each other’. Daichi told me that once.”

“He told me the same actually.”

“Mhm, I think he knows a bit more about it than he claims to. For me, I can almost hear you in my head when you’re in distress, even when you’re far away. Except it doesn’t sound like you’re scared or anything like that. It almost sounds as though you’re softly singing to me? Like… I’m on a boat with gentle waves and you’re singing to me through the water. When I’m asleep and dreaming and you reach out to me for help, I can close my eyes and find myself on a boat like that. A white boat on a black lake. And I hear you singing to me in the water, look down, and see a tiny flickering light through the darkness. For years I’ve had that dream.”

“Yeosang… he talked about you having such a dream. Swimming in a black lake and trying to reach someone but not being able to?”

“Yeah! Um, I’ve woken him up so much because of that very dream. I would have that dream time and time again before you joined the crew, desperately swimming to reach you but it was like something was blocking me from getting to you. Like I could never reach you no matter how fast I was. I would never be able to get in. Then suddenly — one night I did, and I woke up in a box of fabrics in the cargo bay.” Wooyoung shifts to look you in the eye, a weak laugh slipping through his lips. “That feels so long ago now.”

“I’ve been wondering how to thank you for that,” you murmur. “If not for that moment, I would have died.” The skin around your nails suddenly seems a lot more interesting, and you busy yourself with picking at it mindlessly rather than looking back in Wooyoung’s direction. He doesn’t let your hand drift far from his though before he’s tugging it right back into his grasp. His other hand finds its way atop yours as well, holding your joined ones together tightly.

“I didn’t do it to get a thank you. It was just… the right thing to do. It’s sad that we live in such a bad and awful society where you feel the need to thank me for doing something as simple as that.”

“Did you not thank Yeosang for saving his life once upon a time?” You dare to ask. Wooyoung is a bit startled at first, caught off-guard by both your sudden question and the content behind it, but he laughs loud and clear without restraint.

“For someone who claims to hate talking about his life, he sure does talk a lot, doesn’t he?” Wooyoung brushes his bang out of his eyes, pushing the strands that have quickly grown unruly and long to the side. “Yeosang never lets me thank him. Any time I’ve tried, he shut me down before I could finish. Honestly, he saved my life twice. Once when he chose me from that lineup of slaves and spared me a crueler fate, and once when he broke those chains and set me free.”

Chose… me…? Then it wasn’t Yeosang’s mother who picked Wooyoung out for him?

You don’t get to dwell on that thought for long because Wooyoung simply continues to ramble, more and more peace coming to his shoulders as he calms down further.

“Yeosang only ever thanks me. As odd as that is.”

“Did you — have you ever saved his life then?” You already know the answer to that question, but it’s already hanging in the air between you by the time you catch yourself.

“Yes.” Wooyoung is beaming by now, lips stretched wide as he grins. “I got him out of prison when they charged him with treason.”

“And that’s what he thanks you for?”

Wooyoung’s smile doesn’t falter even as he shakes his head in denial.

“He never claims to have saved me, not even once. Instead, Yeosang says that I saved him.”

“B-But why? Objectively he did save you, so why does he not acknowledge that?”

“Because, Y/N, there’s a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Yeosang and I loved each other for many years before. But just loving each other wasn’t enough for Crown Prince Kang Minhee to break my chains and commit treason. When ”I love you“ turns into ”I am in love with you“ and ”I am in love with the mere idea of you“, then Yeosang set me free. Even though I would never have asked him to do it, he chose to on his own accord. So he thanks me and says that I saved him because of that. Because I trusted him enough to put my life in his hands time and time again and let him fall in love with me. He claims it to be a difficult thing — allowing an Elitist to fall in love with you. But with Yeosang… he has only ever made it easy. There are times where it is difficult and frustrating, where I wish that he could be anything other than an Elitist, for fuck’s sake, times when I would rather break his neck in an absolutely non-sexy kind of way, but that’s part of love and loving someone. That’s why he’s grateful to me. It sounds selfish and egotistical to say, but after having him repeat himself for so many years, I’ve grown to accept that even if I don’t believe I deserve it.” Wooyoung speaks with a raw conviction that you’ve heard before. It’s the same tone Hongjoong used when speaking to Seonghwa in the medbay, the same tone Yeosang used when talking about Wooyoung and their past together.

Even if you wanted to formulate a response, you don’t think you would be able to because of how overwhelming the emotion in Wooyoung’s voice is. He’s had every opportunity to blame Yeosang for the misfortune in his life, claim that if only Yeosang hadn’t picked him from the start he would be better off, claim that Yeosang got him out of being a slave only to put him in a more dangerous position. Wooyoung could even blame Yeosang for not protecting him well enough to keep him from being kidnapped and tortured.

Yet not once has Wooyoung blamed him.

Perhaps you were being unfair in pushing the blame onto Seonghwa’s shoulders when he didn’t fight your decision to go with Jisung. Is it so wrong to want someone to fight for you? Yet Yeosang has fought every day for Wooyoung and continues to do so. Wooyoung, who has been through hell and tortures he does not wish to speak about, asked about Yeosang’s well-being before anything else. Yet if they were in your position — if Wooyoung were the one agreeing to go with Jisung to save the others, would Yeosang not drop everything to fight for him?

Your mind screams back at you, telling you that it’s different, the situations aren’t the same, the relationships aren’t the same, and you cannot compare yourself to people like Wooyoung and Yeosang who have had years to figure this out. And so, you don’t compare yourself to them.

Rather you compare Seonghwa and Hongjoong to them. How Seonghwa’s worst nightmare is not being able to save Hongjoong from himself. The sheer will and determination in Hongjoong’s eyes when he said he would never let Seonghwa’s demons overtake him. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is similar to what Wooyoung and Yeosang have. Neither are anything remotely close to what you have — had, your mind suggests ever so helpfully — with Seonghwa yourself.

“It may be selfish, but I don’t want you to push me away. I would rather be hurt and still have you in my life rather than to be perfectly fine without you.”

That memory slips through unannounced and unasked for, and the mere prospect of why it’s coming back to you while you’re having such thoughts scares you so much that you slam the door in that memory’s face and throw away the key before it breaks loose.

“But anyway that’s — I rambled a bit too much, that’s not the point, um, have you ever had similar dreams like those? The ones I had, I mean? Before waking up in my body or before you came to the crew, any time you can remember. I know you haven’t had much opportunity yet, but you’ve had a few experiences by now.”

“I can’t recall ever having those sorts of dreams. That dream you mentioned about the lake — I had a dream that I was drowning in a black lake the night you came to save Seonghwa, but when I wake up in your body, it’s simply that. All I know is falling asleep and waking up like a passenger in your consciousness. I don’t have any control like you’ve had over my body.” Wooyoung’s eyes are oh so expectant and pleading, and it twists something painful in your gut. You want so badly to have information for him, to be able to give him answers or even a hint as to what could be going on, but frankly, you have nothing to offer. “I’m sorry, Wooyoung. I-I feel utterly useless in this whole situation. I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me or my head, I just can’t remember at all and I don’t… You and Seonghwa seem to have this whole Siren thing figured out, how it works, what sort of abilities you have, how to use them. I, on the other hand, have so many gaps and missing pieces in my memories. I’ve had one or two moments where I consciously used some sort of ability, then Seonghwa tried to help me learn, but other than that I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s okay!” Wooyoung rushes to reassure you, squeezing his hand tight around yours as he smiles again. “Y/N, please don’t worry about that. I don’t expect you to have an answer right now, it’s really okay. We’re gonna figure this out together now that you finally know what I am and we’ll be back on the ship soon. And I can help you understand more about being a Siren in general too! If we can get to the Dreamscape together, maybe Daichi will be willing to talk.”

“Last time I was there, he tried to kill me and told me that if I kept asking questions he would end my life,” you snort. Wooyoung’s smile drops into a grave expression that doesn’t fit his features.

“In the beginning — when I first started seeing Daichi, that is — he wasn’t like that. He wanted me to find other Sirens. That’s what ultimately made Yeosang choose Captain’s crew because Daichi had told me there was a Siren there. Then as more time went on, Daichi seemed to get more and more frightened by the idea of Sirens finding each other. He started telling me that someone dangerous would find me, someone I should guard myself from.”

“He warned me of the same when I first came aboard. But Seonghwa mentioned how Daichi’s job is to guide Sirens to each other?”

“That’s true, yes, but Daichi seems to have changed his mind along the way. I can’t understand why, but I’m sure it will make it a lot more difficult to find two more for Captain.” Your conversation dies a bit there, leaving both you and Wooyoung to stew over the predicament. According to Daichi, you spent years denying your identity and refusing to listen to him, so you never made an effort to find any Sirens like both Wooyoung and Seonghwa have been apparently. Still, it leaves you more curious than before, especially given what all happened in your latest escapade in the Dreamscape.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Did he ever tell you that we will always be able to come back to each other?”

“Come… back to each other? No, I’ve never heard him say such a thing before.”

“I remember seeing you in a dream before, not the Dreamscape but an actual dream. But that dream felt more like a memory, and I asked you about it once in the medbay. I know you told me no then, but does it have anything to do with what Daichi said possibly?”

“Hm, I suppose it could?” Wooyoung leans back and looks up at the ceiling. You can’t figure out what’s on his mind just through his expression, and what he says next doesn’t help much either. “But I don’t have any sort of memory like that.”

“You — you were wiped with a serum too, weren’t you?”

“Did Yeosang tell you that as well?” Wooyoung asks through a frown. “Did he mention how guilty he feels about that too? Probably, that would be very much like him to do so. Guilty for things that aren’t even his fault… but yes. Yes, my memories were wiped too.”

“I have another question. I’m sorry for asking so much all at once. Yeosang never gave me a clear answer though, so I’m still curious, but why haven’t you told Hongjoong about this?” Wooyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he sinks his teeth into his lower lip and refuses to look your way for a bit. The silence drags but it’s nothing uncomfortable or unsettling. It isn’t like you’re on a time crunch right now either, so you’re more than willing to wait until he is ready to speak.

“It’s something stupid and selfish honestly,” he whispers after a bit. His other hand finds purchase on the bed, picking at a loose thread hanging off the sheets. “I didn’t expect Yeosang to take it so seriously, but now he’s adamant even when I try to tell him otherwise. Really it’s just that when I was still a slave, I didn’t always have to wear the collar. It dampened and muted my abilities so I couldn’t use them freely. Shocked me a lot too whenever I foolishly tried to use them without permission, leaving some really ugly and awful scars. Yeosang always treated the wounds when that would happen.”

His hand travels up to touch the band of metal hanging about his neck. You follow the movement with your eyes. You can’t miss the spreading scars underneath the metal as he shifts it, like little lightning bolts of pale skin hiding beneath it, and you wonder if that’s what you felt the first time you woke up in his body.

“I have a lot of scars from lots of different things. It shouldn’t be any different, and it shouldn’t even matter because it’s stupid and childish and I need to get over it. Even though the collar is dead and doesn’t work, like it doesn’t mute my abilities anymore or anything like that, just the idea of having it on keeps me sane. Being a Siren is both a blessing and a curse. Some abilities you’re born with are crueler than imaginable and can be used to do horrific things. The things I was forced to do with mine are not something I ever want to revisit again. So… I keep the collar on because the trauma I suffered while wearing it for so many years keeps me sane. Merely the idea of wearing it prevents me from using my abilities because I was conditioned into a state where if I tried doing anything while the collar was on, I would be hurt. When it comes to visiting you, it’s different because I’m asleep when that happens. And whenever people other than Yeosang or myself try to touch it, I get thrown back into the memories of his father taking it off me to use me as a weapon and I-I can’t — it’s too much to bear.

“I trust Hongjoong. I really trust him and admire him and respect him so much. As much as I do Yeosang even if it’s in a different way. But I have an innate fear of authority that tells me no matter who it is, the people who have power over me will abuse it. That if anyone above me knows I’m a Siren, I’ll be used again, and I’m afraid of that. So it’s not that I don’t want to tell Hongjoong. Just that as long as I have this collar on and as long as these demons linger at the edge of my mind, I don’t think I can ever tell him what I am.”

You want to express an apology for bringing those memories back or at least offer an ounce of consolation because you can almost feel the pain radiating off his body in waves. But the moment you reach out to pull him into a hug, the door to your room slides open out of nowhere. You jerk, and Wooyoung lifts an arm to protect the both of you, but you take the initiative in pushing him down to the bed. In one swift movement, you climb in front of him, one knee down on the mattress and the other stretched out in front of Wooyoung’s body. The blade against your thigh is cool on your fingertips, but you don’t pull it out quite yet. The flash of red hair before you stops you at the last second.

Soojin?

The girl is already halfway in the room, door sliding shut behind her, and the second it’s fully closed, she turns to twist the lock into place.

“W-Wait, we’re n-not supposed to lock the doors!” Wooyoung protests, leaning up over your shoulder to see better. Soojin levels him with a sharp glare. You reach behind you to push Wooyoung back enough so that he’s hidden behind your shoulder, matching Soojin’s stare with equal intensity. The girl steps closer to you, draws a single finger up, and stabs you hard in the chest with her dull nail.

“You and me need to have a chat after all it seems.”

“What do you mean?” You clench your fingers around the handle of your knife, still not completely at ease with the woman standing in front of you.

“What do I mean? I mean that my fucking client downstairs just tried to fucking murder me and gave me a message from Han Jisung of all people! Seeing you and hearing from that bastard on the same day after being free from that past for several years? That’s no fucking coincidence, Y/N.”

“Murder!? How did you — how did you get away?”

A laugh of disbelief escapes Soojin’s lips as she pulls back a few feet.

“I killed him, of course! What else was I supposed to do? I dumped the fucker’s body out the window for staff to clean up later. This sort of thing happens frequently enough for them not to question it, and besides, I told them it was a jealous worker so they won’t really care all too much about him. But what the fuck is going on? Why are you here and why did Han Jisung just tell me my time is up and try to have me killed?”

“I… I-I don’t — I’m not with Jisung, I know nothing about that at all. He—” You cut yourself short with a sharp inhale, eyes darting across the floor like it has all the answers in it. “Wait, he knew I would be coming here though. Did he know that you worked here?”

“Unfortunately, not by choice though. We ran across each other around a year ago in the city, and I mentioned working at the House in passing.”

You shift to motion back at Wooyoung and pull your hand off the knife on your leg at last.

“He was brought here against his will by Jisung. Well, whoever Jisung is working with at least. I only came to get him out. We’re — he’s part of the crew I’m working with now. Jisung knew where he would be and that I would come to get him.”

“And he’s still a psychopath when it comes to you then?” Soojin scoffs, brows knitting together to accentuate her disbelief. “He tried to have me killed just so that I would stay out of your business?”

“I don’t know, Soojin,” you exhale. “It doesn’t make any sense why he would do that. I already made a deal with him and he’ll get to take me regardless of what happens here.”

“T-Take you?” Wooyoung interjects. “Take you where?” His hand latches around your elbow and squeezes hard. You ignore the man in favor of maintaining your focus on Soojin, however, much to his dismay.

“Unless you know something Jisung wouldn’t want me to know and he couldn’t even risk the thought of us running into each other and speaking.” At that, Soojin tilts her head to the side in confusion.

“What could I possibly know that you don’t?”

“What happened before you left the crew?” Her confusion intensifies to a dramatic degree.

“Have you gone mad? Do you not remember or something? You were always a bit bad with memory, yeah, but has it gotten this bad?”

“Please, Soojin, I’m begging you please just tell me what happened before the crew fell apart. I know you called me a scapegoat for a reason, please.” You reach out across the empty space between your bodies, having to stand to reach her, but when you do, you close a hand around her wrist. Soojin blinks between where you hold her and your face without speaking for so long that you think she’s going to refuse you again.

“I called you a scapegoat because I thought you were in on Jisung’s plan at the time,” she says finally, pulling her other hand up to run through her hair. “You would’ve done anything for him so I thought that was just another part of it.”

“What did I do?”

“I should be asking what you remember happening instead.”

“What I remember is stealing documents and plotting to dismantle the military from the inside out with you guys but I fucked up. I know I fucked up and got caught and Hyunwoo took the blame for me and it got him fucking executed.” Soojin leans back, hand tugging out of your light grip.

“I know nothing of what happened after Ash, Juyeon, and I left Eros. But before we left…” It’s her turn to hold you by the wrist. She turns your arm over and exposes the inside of your left arm, right where that damned brand sits against your raised skin. “You didn’t deserve this. It wasn’t your burden to bear. You were the scapegoat, and that’s why the team fell apart, that’s why we all broke up and ran away. You didn’t plan to steal anything, nor did you plot a thing. Neither did Hyunwoo. It was all Jisung; Jisung wanted to dismantle the military and kill the king. When Juyeon, Ash, and I found out what he was planning to do, we brought it to Hyunwoo. All Hyunwoo said was that stopping Jisung wasn’t something he could do. So he told us to leave while we still had the chance and that he would take care of things. He would take the blame so that no one else would have to get hurt. But you didn’t want him to do that, so you ran off and carried out Jisung’s plan for him.”

“Which part? Did I k-kill the king… before Hyunwoo died?”

Soojin heaves a deep sigh.

“The last night we were all together as a team, you snuck out of the barracks and infiltrated the palace. You stole the documents Jisung wanted — whatever the fuck they were because I don’t even know why he wanted them in the first place if he was going to kill the king anyways — and you killed the king that night too. Everything went to shit. It all happened too fast for the rest of us to know what was really going on. You just came back to the barracks and turned the lights on and…”

You don’t realize how hard your head is pounding until the woman trails off, voice dying in her throat, and then it hits you will so much force that you feel your body beginning to lurch. You would fall over, most likely smack your head on the sink as well, if not for Wooyoung jumping up and catching you by the waist before you can fully go down. And thanks to him, all you do is hunch over and hold your head in your hands as a stab of pain sears through your skull.

“Breathe, Y/N, breathe for me,” he urges as you slump your weight back against him. “You need to breathe, okay? You’re hyperventilating. One breath every five seconds, slow it down, you’re okay.”

“Th-There was blood. There was blood, wasn’t there?” Looking at Soojin fills your vision with pure crimson, but it’s not because of her hair this time.

“Yes,” she whispers back, not daring to speak any louder than that. “You were… drenched in blood that wasn’t yours. And we were so scared you had been hurt somehow. I carried you to the bath and cleaned you but you didn’t have a single scratch on you.”

“O-Oh god,” you choke out. The red in your vision turns coppery as a different image takes over and a new memory swarms your head.

“What the fuck did you do!?”

Hands squeezing hard around your throat, shoving you under bloody waters.

“Let her go!”

“You ruined everything! How could you do this? Why are you so fucking useless? I told you to sit still and not do anything!”

The water spread to your nostrils and forced its way in as you struggled to find air.

“Jisung, release her right this instant!”

The hands around your throat just grew tighter.

Wooyoung eases you down to the floor when the rest of your strength leaves you. He keeps a hand at your waist, using the other to hold your head to his chest in a desperate attempt to control the wild tremors shooting through your body. You keep a hand pressed to your throbbing temple but it does nothing to alleviate the pain you’re in, one that feels as though something is trying to rip your head in half with their bare hands.

“C-Can’t remember more. I can’t, I do-don’t want to remember anymore, I — it hurts. It hurts too much, it hurts so much.”

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to remember anymore, okay? You’re good, you’re done, no more. No more.” Even through the pain, you can’t miss the desperation in Wooyoung’s tone. His hand moves for your arm where your wristband sits, buzzing uselessly against your skin. “Y/N, what does this mean? Is something happening?”

You want to answer, You even open your mouth to do so. Yet the moment you do, the taste of that metallic soapy water fills your mouth and you choke on air.

“Y/N, please, what does it mean? Are we in trouble?” You think you shake your head but the panic in Wooyoung’s eyes isn’t reassuring and you aren’t sure you have any hold over the muscles in your body right now. “Please, do you know where our friend is?” He asks, directing his focus to where Soojin kneels in front of you.

“The brunette?”

“Brunette? No, no, I’m talking a blond?”

“J-Jongho,” you force out, gritting your teeth until your jaw hurts from the force. “Jongho… here too.”

“I saw that name on the register,” Soojin cuts in. “I checked it to find what room you were in and saw his name further down on the list.”

“Please get him and bring him. Please, I know you — we just need your help right now, please,” Wooyoung begs. His grip on your waist tightens a little as Soojin hesitates, and it doesn’t let up until the girl nods and leaves the room in haste. Wooyoung brings you back to his chest once she’s gone, matching your shaky breaths as he gently rocks you back and forth. “I can’t… know your memories or the pain you’re feeling right now, but I know what it’s like to suddenly be hit with memories you forgot you had. Ones that were suppressed behind an iron wall. I know what it’s like to have it slip out and hit you.”

“It fucking hurts.” You clench your jaw again, feeling a burn of pain up the side of your face with the movement. “Like someone is stabbing my b-brain with a da-damn icepick.”

“Are the memories painful?”

“I d-don’t know. I can hardly think straight. My head hurts. That’s all I can think about.”

“The serum… I’m assuming it’s the same one I was given back then. It can’t take away memories. Yeah, they tell you that it’s a wipe, but that’s only because they don’t want you trying to find those old memories. It can’t remove parts of the brain like that. They just use it to lock away memories but there’s no guarantee of it being permanent, so when you do remember something they tried to lock away, it hurts.”

“D-Does it hurt you like this too?”

“Yes, but I’m — pain isn’t something that bothers me all too much, and I’m lucky enough to have Yeosang nearby when it happens. I’ve got a prescription for the pain from Yunho too. We can… we can get you something long-term back on the ship.”

Another stab of pain hits as the door slides open, metal grating hard on your ears, but this time Jongho stands with Soojin. He rushes over to join you and Wooyoung on the floor in a panic, obviously torn between being excited to see Wooyoung again and your current crumpled state.

“Yeosang’s hour is up and he’s waiting at the meeting point. Captain hasn’t buzzed in on the contact yet.” Jongho reaches down to lay a hand against your forehead. You’re quick enough to turn your face further into Wooyoung’s shirt, inhaling the sickening floral scent that clings to his skin.

“Don’t even think about trying to take it away,” you hiss.

“I can’t take physical pain, don’t worry. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Here, something for the pain.” Soojin interrupts the moment to lean over you with a cup of unknown contents. “Fast-acting pain reliever. Every room has some in it just in case patrons get too out of hand. We keep it in the cabinets, I promise it’s nothing bad. It’ll numb you and make you a bit sluggish for a while, but it’ll also take the pain away.”

“Thank you,” Wooyoung murmurs as he takes the cup from her hands. He helps bring the cup to your lips, pushing some of the murky grey liquid inside into your mouth, and you struggle not to gag around the taste of it. He doesn’t stop until the entirety of its contents are drained into your mouth then tilts your head back to keep it down when some threatens to drip out the corners of your lips. An unknown hand comes down on your knee.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Soojin. “I didn’t mean to hurt you with this information.” You swallow hard only to choke a second later on the putrid aftertaste clinging to your tongue. Wooyoung lets you cough into his shoulder without complaint, passing the now empty cup back to Soojin.

“You couldn’t have known,” you murmur after escaping the coughing fit. “It’s not your fault.”

“I didn’t know what they would do to you after we left the planet,” she sighs through the quiet of the room. “I should have expected it honestly, knowing Jisung, but maybe I hoped he would be better than that. He always manipulated you so it only makes sense that he would try to manipulate your memories too. Do you at least know what happened a little bit better now?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah.” You try to pull away from Wooyoung and get up but his grip on you doesn’t let up. “My memories were taken away for a second time and replaced with something else. So instead of only losing fourteen years of my life, I lost eighteen and spent the last three years believing those manipulated memories to be real. I’m peachy.”

Another buzz from your wristband pulls your attention away, and Jongho glances down at his own too.

“Cameras are down.”

“Let’s go then,” you mutter.

“Are you okay to move? Don’t push it if you’re not strong enough.”

“We need to go now while we still can,” you protect, letting Wooyoung help you to your feet even if it’s on shaky legs. Jongho gives a curt nod then heads for the window, no doubt to pry it open. Soojin catches you by the arm before you can fully turn away.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember all of it, there are still things I regret saying and doing to you. I should have known back then how much Jisung was manipulating you and not pushed so much blame onto your shoulders.”

“You can get out now with us, Soojin. While you have the chance.”

“And do what with that freedom?” She huffs out a dry and lifeless laugh. “Wander aimlessly? Ash and Juyeon are both missing in action. I have no clues or leads on where they might be or if they’re even alive. I don’t have anything left out there beyond the House.”

“I… if I hear anything out there about them, I promise I’ll send you a message. I’ll find a way to get news to you, maybe through my captain’s contact or something. I swear if I can help you get out of this hellhole I will.”

Soojin reaches up to ruffle her hand through your hair, mussing the loose locks more.

“You always were a good kid, Y/N. Too good for the life you were forced to live.” It hurts to watch her smile. It hurts even more to let Wooyoung guide you to where Jongho waits by the now open window. “Go while you can, you three. The medicine will wear off in a few hours, but hopefully, you’ll have access to something better by then. I’ll make sure you get out safely.”

Jongho dips through the open space first, hopping down to the pristine streets below with little issue.

“Send Y/N down next!”

You can’t tear your gaze off Soojin. You don’t know when you might see her again or if you even will, and it hurts to leave her behind like this but she just keeps smiling at you with bright eyes and blinding hair.

“T-Thank you, Soojin. Please stay safe, if you can.”

“Always.”

With that, Wooyoung hoists you over the ledge of the window and dangles you far enough down so that your fall is softened a bit. Jongho catches you by the legs, taking the brunt of your weight before you hit the ground. Wooyoung drops down beside you without warning a second later. As Jongho eases you down, you dare to glance up at the window you just left from, and it shuts slowly without a sign from Soojin inside.

Wooyoung rushes back to your side and loops an arm back around your waist when you start to slump forward again.

“That’s — that’ll look too suspicious,” you mutter, pulling his arm back to his own side.

“We just dropped out a fucking window. I’m sure that would look more suspicious.”

“I’ll be okay.”

Yet two steps later, you’re stumbling over your heels and Jongho comes to your rescue this time. He tugs your arm through his own as he walks forward without saying a word. You can only lean your weight on him and slump your chin against his shoulder.

“Thank you…”

Silence drapes over the three of you as you make your way to the meeting point with Yeosang. You aren’t in as much pain as you were earlier (Soojin wasn’t bluffing when she said fast-acting) but the medicine is already making you a bit groggy. It feels a bit like you’re wading through sludge just trying to walk a few steps, and frankly, Jongho is the only thing keeping you going at this point. Wooyoung lingers at your other side. Every once in a while, you feel his worried gaze find its way to your form. He might even be speaking to you at some point because you hear something that sounds vaguely like his voice through the radio static in your ears, but there is far too much on your mind and too much to think about right now for you to pay any attention to that.

If… if I killed the king before Hyunwoo’s execution, then who did I kill that night? Did I kill anyone at all? Was that memory fabricated? What have I been working towards all these years if that’s a lie?

Funny how your search for answers only left you with more questions instead. There are too many questions to keep track of and not remotely enough answers to them. You know you won’t be able to have those answers yet either, not while San and Mingi are still missing and Jisung is bothering you. Where would you even look for answers now? Jisung would never tell you a thing, Hyunwoo is dead and gone, and now you’re leaving Soojin behind.

The one thing that reaches your brain through the static in your ears is a dry and choked sob. You pull yourself out of your thoughts as Wooyoung disappears from your side. It doesn’t take much to guess why. You’ve reached the meeting point, the all too small alleyway where Yeosang waits for you three, and Wooyoung is running straight to him with reckless abandon.

“Y-Yeosang, angel, Yeosang, my god I’m—” Wooyoung’s voice dies in a cracked sob when he reaches the Elitist. His hands barely brush the man’s shoulders because Yeosang drops to his knees in front of Wooyoung, face hidden but no doubt bearing tears, and he balls his fists around the flimsy material of Wooyoung’s pants. He presses his forehead to Wooyoung’s hip, hands traveling further up to press against the small of his back. Wooyoung can only card a hand through Yeosang’s hair in response, but it’s enough for now. It’s enough for both of them like this, with Yeosang’s knuckles white from the pressure of clinging to Wooyoung, and you and Jongho maintain your distance as best you can to give them this moment.

“Are they happy?” You whisper to Jongho even though the answer is blindingly obvious before you. The Berserker’s lips twist into a small grin.

“I don’t think there’s a word strong enough to describe how they’re feeling right now.”

Yeosang pulls his head off Wooyoung’s hip and stares up at the man with tears on his cheeks and stars in his eyes. Wooyoung dips down to the Elitist’s height, pulling his face up to his own and slotting their lips together like nothing else in the universe exists around them. Again, it’s raw, as all emotions between these two seem to be, but it belongs to them and it’s something you can’t take away from them. When they part lips to gulp in desperate breaths of fresh air, Wooyoung places his forehead over Yeosang’s and takes the breath from his lungs like that. They don’t exchange words but there doesn’t seem to be a need for words either, not until Yeosang seems to catch hold of himself and come back to his senses.

“The car is waiting for us at the other end of the alley. Driver’s already pulled up.” Jongho nods when the Elitist drags his gaze over to where the two of you stand. Yeosang lets Wooyoung pull him back into space after that, unable to contain a smile as the Siren continues to press more kisses to his cheeks. You and Jongho trail behind them to the other end of the alleyway. Seeing them together like this makes it worth it. You knew it would and you were striving to bring them this moment, but seeing it unfold before you like this increases that feeling tenfold.

Once in the car, Yeosang sits Wooyoung down in one of the cushioned seats then drops to the floor between his legs even when Wooyoung protests and tells him to get up.

“Stop, that’s weird! It looks weird, Yeo, please! It looks like you’re trying to su—”

“Shut up,” Yeosang mumbles back as he drops his head to rest against Wooyoung’s thigh. “You’re the one who makes everything dirty. Get your head out of the gutter.”

Wooyoung obviously doesn’t mind all too much because he returns to toying with the Elitist’s blond locks moments later as you and Jongho settle into the seats beside the pair. And from where you’re sitting, they really do look like young boys again, more than just a former slave and ex-prince but also less than that. Just… boys who fell in love despite the odds set against them.

“I’m sorry, Woo, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, angel, I know. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You tune out of the conversation there. It’s far too intimate and personal for you to encroach on, and the medicine has you falling asleep in your seat anyways. Jongho seems to pick up on that, reaching over to pat your leg.

“Rest while you can.”

A hum comes as your reply as you slump to the side, head hitting the side of the car with a loud thud. Jongho exhales a quiet laugh and pulls you over to rest against his shoulder instead.

“’m sorry for snapping at you,” you murmur. You’re forcing your eyes to stay open long enough to get the apology out but it’s growing more difficult by the second. “I didn’t mean to, I was afraid… of her slipping out of my grasp but… that’s no excuse.”

Your fluttering eyes snap wide open when something presses down hard on your nose. You blink uselessly at Jongho and the finger he hovers over your face.

“Stop talking nonsense, yeah? Rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not?”

“Hm, no, I’m not.”

“Promise.”

“I promise I’m staying right here.”

“And we’ll get San back?” You mumble just before the drowsiness wins.

“We’ll get your San back too, I promise.”

✧✧✧ a/n: yall imma be honest this chapter feels like a whole fever dream and a half but i love it nonetheless she’s my Baby i hope you guys love her just as much and enjoy her <3 lots happened but also not a lot happened? i feel like the wc is so dramatic for Not A Lot but yaknow that’s life ! next chapter we’re getting juicy and bringing a part 16 move back bc teehee that’s what i do best u know me anywho let me know what u think as always i love u all im so happy to bring u guys this chapter and so excited for the coming ones!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​​ @sugarrimajins​​ @atinyinwonderland​​ ​@sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​​ @jeonartemis​​ @anothershorthuman​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​​ @haotheheckk​​ @noonawriter​​ @lostscenarios​​ @nlost21​​ @mirror-juliet​​ @okokokok123-45​ @purple-aeon​ @theoinkypiglet​ @toothlessshiber​ @atinyarmyx1​ @simpforhyunjin​ @hwangwoosan​ @vampire-jimin​ @softyubi​ @drumboydowoon​ @chatsgotmytongue​ @just-a-starfruit​ @babydolljo​ @scintillating-souls​ @khjssss​​ @rawrrainn​ @hewwo-from-the-other-side​ @icekdy​ @eggteez​​ @bangtanxberm​​ @uglychildd​ @lucymultistan​​​​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[bbnibini]

Hi! I really love your works but it gotten me curious if you also read fanfics? Do you have any fanfic recommendations?

Thank you, anon! That's really kind of you. 🥺💕 I do read fanfics, but not as much anymore. I'm assuming this ask is for Obey Me fics? But if not, I will include some of my absolute favourites in a future post. Fair warning: I gushed. A LOT hahaha. Please support the authors and their works! I included the fics in the hyperlinks~

NSFW fics are marked appropriately, so please click the links at your own discretion (some of them are in my public bookmarks in AO3).

Elle's Obey Me Fic Recommendations

🌸Your Coal by Angrish(LettuceBean)

Truth be told, I belong to the "forgive but don't forget camp" in lieu of what happened in Chapter 16; reading Angrish's YC and how their MC coped with the aftermath(+ how others coped along with them) felt really powerful, raw and so so emotional. It made me think and really think about how I processed the whole thing that happened. While it didn't really change my outlook on how I have forgiven Belphie for what he had done, Angrish shedding light to the unanswered questions and lingering doubts the main story have left most of its readers was done in such a thoughtful and poetic way that I found myself binge reading the whole thing.

Given that I read this whole coping with a lot of stuff as well (and may have contributed with sympathising a lot more to the vindictiveness of the MC), reading what Angrish had written was really cathartic. Their writing style is also beautiful--the way the words string together, simple, elegant, yet impactful really made MC's emotions a lot...tangible, real and sometimes, frustrating (in a good way, mind you). I also liked how they had fleshed out the other characters, especially Belphegor, Satan and the Purgatory Hall members.

🌸You'll Have to Ask Your Dad by DefenestrationProtestration

I remembered clicking on this fic because of the author's punny name, stayed for the pretty writing and reread a few several times for the characterisation and THE WRITING. I'm pretty sure I left a litany of praises and incomprehensible gushing on the comments section because of how much I've devoured this piece of art.

Even as I'm typing this review, I can't seem to organise my thoughts haha. You can tell by the writing style that the author had a lot of fun writing their prose; it permeates through the screeen...my "screen" of imagination at least. I am not joking--the writing is so pretty and vivid that I literally saw it as a movie in my head lol. I chatted with them a bit on the comments and they said the prose is more of something they had written subconsciously; it reminded me of James Joyce and how he had masterfully perfected the same technique. Of course, their writing styles differ a lot from each other, but I can see what they meant.

...as I'm typing this, I didn't realise how I haven't talked about the plot of the fic at all soz. This piece is the author's character study of Lucifer. It talks about how he was before, during and after the fall. He is a bit of an unreliable narrator, which I'm not sure if the author intended, but he has all these presumptions that miss the mark so so much, particularly at how his brothers, Lord Diavolo and the others perceive him--but reading the whole thing would make you understand why he had gotten to that kind of self-perception in the first place. And honestly? It really, really hurt to read. But was it bad? The total opposite of that, in fact! I loved how they had written the angst in this piece. So many things in the fic are "show, rather than tell" and I really really appreciate that.

Most of my brainrot about this fic is better to be explored on your own. Overall, 10/10: a definite, recommended read.

🌸Fairy Tales for the Fallen by indiavolowetrust

I haven't fully devoured all of the stories in the collection yet, but the ones I've read (Her Name Was Thousand Eyes is my favourite) was such a really good spin on dark fairy tales (Obey Me style!). It reminded me of my childhood Little Mermaid picture book for some reason. Probably the writing style(the author's writing reads a lot like a storybook) The one I had was Hans Christian Andersen's (aka the OG) version and the ending was rather...dark for a 5 year old lol. It was a big part of my life though and was probably the precursor for my affinity with sad stories haha.

🌸TieGuanYin by Taciturn

Like tea on a tiring day, Taciturn's writing style feels very homey, cozy and familiar. I love rereading this oneshot when I'm having a shitty day and imagining myself having tea with Barbatos haha. Ever had pieces of art or literature that just...relaxes you when you consume it? This one is one of my, as the youngsters say, "comfort fic" haha.

🌸glass half empty; glass half full by unagis

I love unagis' fics.♡ I also love her Childe fics. The concepts she comes up with, as well as how she delivers it is *chef kiss*. Admittedly, I read this one when I was still a Satan stan, with all the suspicions and doubts about Solomon's intentions still rampant within me. Reading him blush and become flustered is CUTE and aaaaa this whole fic is just really cute.🥺♡

🌸The Eternal Storm by @sondepoch

Sondepoch's Satan oneshot was the very first fic I read in the OM fandom so it has a special place in my heart~ I remembered how awkward it was to skim through the Satan filters, looking for a gen fic/SFW fic because around that time, most OM fics are smut (no shade on smut ofc, I'm just super uncomfortable reading them unless the writing is really pretty or there's something else going on in the story). Finding GEN AND A WELL-WRITTEN CHARACTER STUDY about my (former) favourite OM character was like I hit the jackpot. I remembered that feeling really well haha. My bias with one of my favourite forms of fic (char. study) aside, Sondepoch's writing is easy on the eyes and is definitely a great entry for anyone who wants to be in the OM fandom.

🌸Read Me by GENE515

One of my more recent reads and definitely worth a mention!♡ Read Me was a beautifully written, heartfelt two-shot about Lucifer's love, which he tried his best to express in penned words. Probably because of my own love letter-themed OM series, this one really stuck to me haha. The author is also really sweet. :3

🌸Schrodinger by fickleminder

I read this one around Halloween and it definitely fit the occasion. Schrodinger was such a great thriller/horror fic with how it set its unsettling atmosphere from the very beginning--the way fickleminder's writing just sucks you in and makes you bystand the whole ordeal between Belphegor and MC was just...so suspenseful? Nail biting? Creepy (in a good way ofc)? I won't spoil the ending, but the process and way they tackled it was a lot scarier than what I was initially bracing myself for.

🌸Siberia by @polandspringz

Seeing another Obey Me mystery in AO3 really hyped me up! Polandspringz did a spectacular job in writing this series and I can relate so much with their experiences in writing for mystery. Their writing style is easy on the eyes--I also really liked how they characterised the OM characters I have read on their series so far. There's still quite a lot of stuff left in speculation (from my most recent reading at least), and I really look forward to see how everything unfolds!

🌸Tetris Syndrome by apocketfulofposies (NSFW)

I am very very uncomfortable with smut content, so the smut I've read can be counted on one hand. ;; That is to say, TS is one of the few smut that I really, really enjoyed. First of all, Levi's characterisation is on point. It was really really interesting to get in his head and read about his thought process. What is envy? And how much does the sin of envy really define him?

I really enjoyed Levi's internalisations, as well as the author's writing style. If you want smut with a brooding, jealous otaku boy, I really recommend this one!

[neoheros]

— happy pride everybody!!! i’m gonna be going on a semi hiatus since i’ve been seeing writing as more of a chore rather than a hobby lately. june is an important month for me and i really want to take time to treat myself correctly! i’m probably gonna come back every once in a while when i feel like writing but other than that please don’t feel ignored !!

— i’m gonna be linking down below my favorite writers and pieces that deserve recognition and love because the way they write just absolutely stuns me!!

works i’d give a limb to read again for the first time because of the way it was written !!

sensitive by @writingbakery : tamaki amajiki x reader, smut — this stole my heart, when i say that i reread it over and over again because it just dripped in emotion and talent !!

the baby-sitters club by @kiyasuno : iwaizumi hajime x reader, fluff — this was the first thing i read from rosie and it absolutely stole my heart. she wrote it so well and i still take the time to reread when i’m feeling down !!

jealous boys with a s/o as a cheerleader by @volleychumps : akaashi, kuroo, kageyama, iwaizumi x reader, fluff — i loved reading this so much, it had me laughing and smiling so fricken hard !! the content was a 100/10 !!

sidekick by @jackrrabbit : dabi, shigaraki x reader, smut — uhm reading this was an actual ride like holy crap thank you for the butterflies ?? ahahahaha i will have dreams about this for weeks !! the way this was written stole my heart too like omfg ????

antisocial socialites by @plusultrawritings : todoroki x reader, fluff — i am a simp for the entire concept of this and honestly when i reread it to analyze the writing i? my heart. it’s yours now. you wrote this !! so WELL !!

giggling while kissing hcs by @cutietobio : yamaguchi, tsukishima, kageyama, kuroo, lev x reader, fluff/suggestive — i LOVED reading this so fricken much !!! this was so fun and happy and yet so adorable at the same time ?? chefs kisses for you madame !

at arrival by @heroprose : katsuki bakugo x reader, fluff — THIS OMFGWISJ i’m really fricken sure that this is still my favorite piece to have ever read ??? i just love how xue wrote this and i’ve fallen for every letter that she types. talent at its finest !!!!!

tiktok au by @burnedbyshoto : bakugo x reader, fluff — two things; the content and the way it was written !! i sound like a broken record but holy crap, this was written so well and so beautifully ?? the content itself is a chefs kiss on its own but i’m a sucker for well written hcs and !!! you served !!!

kenma as a boyfriend hcs by @babiekeiji : kenma kozume x reader, fluff — probably one of the firsts i’ve read when i started stabbing haikyuu and oh my god ?? i still get butterflies when i think about it !! it’s so pretty and soft !!

boy, do i wanna take you home by @shoutotodorokiisicyhot : aizawa x reader, fluff — i fell in LOVE when i read this like first of all the way you worded it was already heartwarming enough but then the content itself made me fall for aizawa even more !!

impossible year by @bokunokangae : tamaki amajiki x reader, fluff — this made me feel on a different level ??? the sentences ?? the simplicity ????? holy ???? written in a way that’s been engraved in my heart because it is just so fricken beautiful !!

writers who made me fall in love with every word that they type

@dorkyama — remy’s got a way with words that make everything she writes an absolute wonder to read ! her content has always been a personal favorite and i will never forget how talented she is when it comes to structuring sentences !!

@kozukens — mui’s an actual dream. when i tell you that she can turn anything into something beautiful and poetic, i mean it ! her writing sends chills down my spine almost always and it’s just so gorgeously written that it assures you of how pretty her mind must be.

@kiyasuno — rosie’s way of writing has always entrapped me in a way where i’m left in awe ?? she can deliver an entire story with such elegance that you’re gonna want to reread the entire thing over and over again ?? that is raw talent.

@heroprose — xue has mastered the art of simplicity and elegance ! she inspired me to make this blog and every letter that she types will always make me shudder because her writing has a knack of being so beautiful that it sends chills down my spine. i adore every single one of her works !!

@jojosmilktea — jojo is so talented especially in ways where she wants to convey the story in the most beautiful sentences. her tamaki content will always be the ones i choose to reread when i’m sad and it’ll always hit different because !!! it’s so beautiful ???

@chenle — ANNA OMFG ,, hi i don’t think you know since i changed my user since then but i’m the one who told you that my friend and i would discuss your works on a daily because it’s just so amazing ??? your writing has got me through some shit and i will always idolize the way you write since it’s just so fricken pretty !!

@wakaitoshi — kale’s writing is so gorgeous, i can’t think of another word to describe it. she’s mixed her sentences with elegance and beauty that it’ll encase you in how well written it is !!

@haikyuu-ink — yuki’s way of writing drips of emotion and gentleness? in a way, i think that it’s best to read her stuff when you want to feel, she’s the best in that area!

@babiedeku — marianne has the prettiest pass time drabbles in the world. they’re mixed with funny and fluffy dialogues that i’ll always adore!!

@lceiji — rae is my go to for akaashi fics and she never fails on serving !!! truly one of my favorites since her style of writing has always left me breathless !!!

@lcaita — kai has my favorite long shots and they’re the ones i save to read when i’m all snuggled up in bed ! her talent lies in the way she describes scenarios in detail and it always leaves me awestruck !

@k-nma — li just started out writing but her akaashi post has rendered me amazed !! the way she has a direct flow in sentences and word use makes my heart flutter and the content itself was a dream !!

@hqprotectionsquad — lara’s content has always been 100/10 ! she writes for both bnha and haikyuu and everything she puts out just gets me head over heels !! talent !!!

@kenmagi — riza’s entire blog is just so gorgeous, i’m always in awe of it ! her writing is simple and direct to the point but she delivers it with such cuteness, my heart flutters !!

@kaidasen — liz’s range goes from amazingly structured long fics to comedic and funny fake texts !! whatever she puts out is always enough to get me smiling !!

@t-amajiki — gere’s my go to for nsfw fics !!! she’s so talented in means of capturing the readers attention and giving them butterflies !!! it’s a talent and honey, she is dripping in it !!

@starboybokuto — zade is as elite as it can get !! i love her nsfw hcs, they always get butterflies in my tummy and when i tell you that she’s basically mastered it by now, i mean it !! she’s the standard for a well written nsfw fic and i stand by that !

@b0kuto — emi’s writing drips of emotion and the best part is that you can tell !! her content is riddled with feelings and poetry and i’ve always enjoyed going through them especially when the day i had felt in need of something missing.

@agaassi — aera has the fluffiest headcanons in the world pleaseee!! her works were made for softness and they always leave me smiling !!! it’s just so precious and adorable and ahhh <3

@prettysetter — rin’s writing is so fricken !!! PRETTY !!! she writes so simply and yet you see how much emotion she conveys ????? i love love reading through her works because they always get me catching feelings !! chefs kiss !!!!

@tsutsukki — aster’s writing is so !! FRICKEN !! delicious !!!!! she writes with so much intention yet delivers with utmost direct simplicity ?? she’s an absolute dream to read about !!

lovely content creators that i’m looking forward to binging because everything about their account and personality just scream talent ♡

@miyuswriting — bro i’m sorry but like i’ve been eyeing your masterlist for a while and i’m so excited to indulge in it cause i already read one of your stuff and the way you write just made me feel things !!!

@sushij1ma — i read your shoto fic and it just :( absolutely stoke my heart and made it do things !!! i’m so excited for what more you’re gonna offer and i just know that it’s gonna be a fucking DELICACY !

@gogohaikyuu — hiii, your masterlist looks delicious and i read snippets of your kuroo stuff because kuroo and i ?? want you to know that you made me catch FEELINGS ??? the talent !!!!

@indigohitoshi — babie !! i’ve only read few of your stuff and i can’t wait to indulge myself in them but from the little amount of what i’ve read from you it is no doubt that you are so talented :( i love how you spin words and sentences !! it’s so beautiful !

@daichoo — i read your dating headcanons and the way you wrote for kuroo ??? i ??? hello, i have feelings ??? your writing is just an entire level of chefs kiss and i can’t wait to binge your masterlist !! ( but fr dude the kuroo bit in your hcs got me in love >:/ )

@tobiosbabie — soo !!!! the way you wrote that tsukishima fic has stolen my heart and you have yet to return it !! expect me in your notifs soon because i can’t resist binging your entire blog since you just write so !! fricken beautifully !!

@jayy-keii — i love your content so fricken much, words will never be enough !! as a fellow swiftie and tsukki stan, i am sure when i say that your entire blog is dripping in both beauty and talent ??? holy crap dude :0

@wisteriarain — you have the prettiest blog :( i’m so into how you write that whenever i’m feeling down, your work is the first to come to mind !! the day you write for kuroo is the day i crumble to the ground ! please you’re so :( talented !!!!

@tobiomlk — YOUR DRABBLES ARE SO !! PERFECT !! i can’t wait to read more of them and honestly ?? i don’t really read smaus but yours just !!! captured me ???? chefs kiss x300

@tiny-giant — YOUR KUROO HC GOT ME ON THE GROUND. are you kidding me? right in front of my salad? you write so prettily and the entire time i read it i was squealing and shouting like?? please i cannot wait to burn through your blog, i’m just so in love !!!!!

@towkken — bro i know you’re not a writing blog but i am obsessed with your art ???? it is — fricken gorgeous !!!! your style is so pretty and it’s unlike any i’ve seen and omfg ?? never stop ??????

@sugawaria — another art account that doesn’t get enough hype and recognition !!! please you have one of the prettiest art i’ve ever seen !! i could stare at it all day and my heart would explode !!! you’re so talented it’s unreal !!!

the actual love of my life/s that deserve nothing but adoration and gratitude because they’re the kindest people on earth.

@iwhyzuumi — i love you. that’s it. you’re so fucking gorgeous and kind and i love you forever ! no words head empty !

@kuroowuwu — you’re my favorite kuroo stannie to share headcanons with :( you’re so kind and precious and warm ?? ugh kuroo is too lucky to have you !!!

@spicyness — i’m so sorry i’m the worst at holding conversations but omfg i adore you ???? you’ve got the prettiest content on my feed and i can’t believe that you’re my friend :( you’re so kind i can’t even start !!!!

@we-mentally-unstable — thank you for the eternal support :( you can’t imagine how much i adore you for keeping up with what i write !!!

@milkykageyama — i ADORE YOU ?? flat out. you can’t even fathom how much i appreciate you :( thank you so much for every note you’ve given me and ugh i just want to hug you :((

@saltedcaramelsss — winnie !! you’re my absolute best friend !! i’m so lucky to have someone like you and i’m sorry that i suck at replying so much :( i just want you to know that i love you and i’m so grateful for the love you give me !!

this was definitely longer than i expected but everyone i mentioned above has been a personal idol of mine and i’m thankful to be mutuals with some of them !! please give them the same amount of love and kindness you’ve given me and i cannot thank you enough for getting me this far !!

thank you for 1.5k and i’ll see you when i see you ! happy pride month everyone ! spread love and kindness !! ♡

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.20

Feel You Closer

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)  x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader      Word count: 3900

Summary: You remember. It’s time you reacquainted with your soulmate.

That’s what you should do, right? Just feel him as close to you as possible.

Warnings: swearing, 18+, nsfw, very light D/s, so much fluff

A/N: Yeah, there’s minimum plot (a bit at the beginning, read that if you want to avoid the explicit chapter and still want to understand what stunt ‘Nat’ will pull next chapter)

A/N 2: Me: I’m not a smut writer. Also me: two last fics/chapters posted on tumblr being explicit. Oops.

Story masterlist ༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

You walked to the room hand in hand, unseen and unheard. Besides Jarvis, of course, but you didn’t even count him anymore. After the many times you had stayed in the Tower, you grew even fond of him. He really was programmed to be sassy, just like his creator, and sass was a language you spoke.

The idea hit you with the snap of the door and you instantly burst into giggles. Steve casted a curious, but warm gaze at your schoolgirl-like fit.

“Tony doesn’t know,” you explained, only to see no understanding dawning on Steve’s face. “He doesn’t know I remember. I have a very strong need to mess with him, even though we had a nice talk.”

“…you had a nice talk?” Steve asked, bewildered. Looking back at it, you were a bit surprised too – but then again, you weren’t. Tony was much more than he let on.

“Uh-uh. Yeah. I asked him about me. About us.”

A shadow of hurt fell on Steve’s face and you realized what it looked like, you seeking another man.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you!” you blurted out immediately, seeing clearly that it didn’t convince him. “I just wanted a different opinion on me. You’re a bit… biased.”

The frown on his face smoothened, the pool of sadness in his eyes gradually vanishing. Instead, his brows lifted along with one corner of his lips.

“Biased?”

“Yep. You were all waxing poetic about me, how amazing I was. I wanted a second opinion, because I knew for sure I… wasn’t… that… that perfect,” you trailed off as Steve’s smile grew wider and wider with each word. “What?”

“And you decided to go to Tony of all people?”

You were surprised by that question. Steve was usually more the one to dwell on you actually being amazing and astounding and stuff, fast to assure you when he spotted only a trace of self-consciousness on you. Not today, apparently, as he focused on the fact you went to the child of a man in the flying suit. You grinned, not minding a bit.

“…that’s fair. But cut me some slack, he looked like he’d be the one to speak openly.”

Steve gave a short laugh, amused twinkle in his eyes. The change in him ever since he had learned you remembered was so stark you couldn’t tear you gaze away. It was mesmerizing – now, his smiles and laughter radiated true happiness.

“That I can’t argue with. Now, what kind of messing around are we talking about?”

At that, you smirked. “Your clothes. I wanna wear your clothes and I need Jarvis to tell me exactly what comment Tony and Clint made when I first entered the kitchen wearing your stuff.”

You might have had more than one goal when saying this. It wasn’t just to cause Tony a fit later… you might want to nudge Steve’s fantasy, knowing all too well what his clothes on you symbolized and how much he enjoyed you wearing them despite denying it till his last breath.

His eyes did grow rounder, much to your satisfaction. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the smirk battling to show on your face for a whole different reason now.

“Maybe throw a bit of foul language in?” you continued and Steve closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Just imagine his face – me, walking in, him wanting to comment and me encouraging him, talking about how I actually got thoroughly fucked the previous evening.”

“Every time,” Steve grunted and you tilted your head in wonder, the grin wining the fight and finding its way on your face.

“Mm?”

Steve’s eyes snapped open, black as night, his irises barely visible. Ohhh, this was even better than you had imagined.

“Every time I think I know just how much trouble you are…” he rasped, taking a step closer, forcing you to walk backwards, your back hitting the door after only two steps, effectively trapping you between his frame and the hard surface, an inch between your bodies remaining.

Your breathing ragged as if on command, heart speeding up in anticipation. Steve’s hands rose, palms resting by your head at each side, his face leaning to yours. Your teeth released your lower lip in order to wet it with your tongue, drawing Steve’s gaze like a magnet. Your breath hitched when his lips stayed so painfully close you could feel the heat but didn’t touch, your eyes fluttering close at the sensation. God, your belly was already burning.

“…you always prove me wrong…” he hummed, brushing your lips with his own. You nearly whined when he parted almost instantly and you intended to follow, only for Steve to have your hair trapped in one of his hands to make sure you stayed put. That simple gesture caused your underwear to dampen. “Talking like that when you’re injured and you know nothing can happen.”

His mouth moved to shower your chin and throat with attention, torturously light touches, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your knees buckled, Steve’s hand quick to catch you, squeezing you between his body and the door to keep you upright.

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You can barely stand. I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” he mumbled to your throat, but honestly, he didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. More like—more like the opposite actually. He even sounded… demanding?

Did he really start a game now? A little role-play? That’s new.

“But… but I was cleared to leave medical,” you whispered, testing the waters, earning a satisfied grunt.

Oh god, this was happening. There had been glimpses of this before, the dominance; you were pretty sure Steve enjoyed it mostly because of how underestimated he had been before the serum, but the reason didn’t quite matter. It was important that he liked it and you never minded when it showed a little. Now though… oh boy.

“That’s true,” he mused, tickling the side of your neck with his warm breath. “And I was left to take care of you… in charge of your treatment. What only will I do with you, doll?”

Powerplay. This was a powerplay and given how much you trusted Steve, knowing he wouldn’t actually hurt you when playing, you were totally on board.  

The pool of wetness on your underwear only confirmed it.

Steve’s hand urged you to answer, squeezing your hip. Your whole body tingled, a tiny whimper escaping you.

You just needed him close now. With all the madness that had happened, there was nothing you needed more than to feel his body on yours, his hands, his lips, his everything, just to know you two were.

“Anything you want,” you breathed and Steve’s hips thrust forward, deliciously adding friction between your bodies. He was hard as rock and you had a pretty good idea what would make him even harder. You were saving it for now… soon, though.

He raised his head, facing you again, his hand releasing your hair in order to run the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, watching the motion as if hypnotized.

“Anything, you say? That’s quite daring, doll…”

This was it. This was the time.

You peeked at him from under your eyelashes as your tongue kitten-licked his thumb. He didn’t even flinch, but you knew he would at your next words.

“Anything, sir.”

It was his turn to whimper, his hips bucking again, his mouth smacking to yours, both of his hands falling to your waist.

“God, I missed you so much, all of you. Are you sure you’re okay?” he whispered urgently before devouring your mouth again, nearly breathing you in with the vigour. “Tell me and I stop.”

You grabbed his shoulders, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“I missed you too. And yes. All yours… sir.”

“Christ, woman!”

His palms took handfuls of your backside firmly and your giddy giggle got lost in the moan you both let out, swallowed by the other, your hips moving in synch.

Out of blue, he grabbed your wrists, pinning them to your sides, the display of strength once again sending a thrill through your body.

“Keep them here until I give you the permission to move, okay?” he ordered, the low timbre of his voice striking something right inside your core.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what, doll?” he coaxed, voice deliciously dark.

Oh wow, just wow. You were pretty sure your core just started throbbing.

“Yes, sir.”  

“That’s right,” he praised, taking your mouth again, wordlessly asking for access, though more demanding than usual. You parted your lips, welcoming his tongue as he swept it along your teeth and then met yours.

The order he had given you was way harder than you anticipated; keeping your hands to yourself while his own roamed your body, guiding your hips to meet his for more friction and making your body feel like floating in a sea of pleasure, cupping your breasts… his mouth was taking yours as if his life depended on it, breathing you in and nibbling, retreating only to suck at your neck just when you wanted him, needed him kissing you on your lips… it was the sweetest torture. You craved for his mouth and all you had to do was to touch him and pull him back to you.

But you weren’t allowed.

“Hands up,” he hissed, already tugging at your shirt before you registered what he asked you to do. Your body obeyed automatically, but with delay. Steve didn’t seem to mind, his skilful fingers finding the opening of your bra instead of simply waiting. Before you knew it, your torso was bare, your chest peppered with kisses and a mark sucked under your collarbone.

“Steve…” escaped your lips, your hands twitching, refusing to return to your sides, finding his muscles instead.

He hummed discontentedly, guiding them back to stay along the wall. You couldn’t but whine.

“Please.”

“Please what?” he whispered to your skin and you nearly banged the back of your head against the wall, stopping the last half-inch away. You had hit your head, after all.

“Please, sir. Can I…” Your own breathy moan interrupted your plea when he licked at your nipple. Christ, Steve. “Can I touch you?”

“Mmm…” he hummed, the vibration making the worst and the best things to your brain. You were completely at his mercy and you didn’t even care. Hell, you were enjoying it, but God, you needed to feel his body under your hands. “Not yet.”

The mewl that left your lips was borderline embarrassing, more so since Steve’s mouth left your breast and soothed you with a sweet and dirty kiss, your tongues tangling together.

“Just a little longer. Let me appreciate you, doll. You’re so, so pretty…”

His hot breath, soft lips and a dart of a tongue trailed down your front, one of his hand easily slipping under the hem of your jeans, while the other already worked on the button and tugged them to your knees. He kneeled, glancing up at you with a wicked smile as he stripped them completely with only a little help.

Steve guided your left leg over his shoulder and this time the noise you made was utterly embarrassing, a blend of a squeak, a moan and a whimper and Jesus fucking Christ. He didn’t even get his mouth on you, just the anticipation enough to flood your core. You knew how good he was at that and just the thought-

“Oh, doll, you’re soaking…”

Something in you wanted to snark that yes, you noticed, but another voice, the one that was ridiculously enjoying this game, shut the urge up and whispered another words for you to say.

“Y-yes, sir. Because of you,” your voice trembled slightly and when he looked up at you from his filthy position again, lop-sided smirk on his handsome and usually so innocent face, you were done for.

His finger ran up your slit, making you flinch and bite your lip.

“And just what should I do about it, mm…” he kissed your inner thigh, giving you a very good idea as if you hadn’t had one before. “Would you like me to take care of it? Use my tongue?”

He. Was. So. Fucking. Filthy. And. Mouthy.

And you should feel humiliated at responding him, but you didn’t. You loved it.

“Please… sir,” you breathed out, which gained you another kiss, higher this time, just below the waistline of your panties, one finger looping in them; a sharp tug and they were gone, making you gasp.

“Since you said ‘please’… but you’re gotta watch, doll, alright?”

You gulped. You weren’t sure you were able to do that. You’d come in seconds.

Still, you nodded.

“Speak up, my sweet girl...”

“Yes, sir.”

The first lap of his tongue caused your fists to clench with the need to hold onto something. Anything. His hair looked suitable enough, just like his free shoulder. You chewed on your lower lip.

As if hearing your thoughts, he led your hands to hold onto him. It was bliss – and a freaking reassurance, because you really didn’t want to fall. Not that he would ever let you, but better be sure.

You could barely stand and you couldn’t stand it. The sight of Steve devouring you like this, bringing indescribable pleasure tingling in every cell of your body with his clever tongue was too much. He didn’t even need to use his fingers, finding spots to drive you insane just by licking at them.

You came with a breathy cry, your pulse loud in your ears and with your legs getting wobbly at instant; you were lucky he held you so firmly. He sucked on your clit, sending shocks through your already overwhelmed body, forcing you to moan his name and arch your back. He worked you through it, alternating between praises and soothing your weepy core, slowly driving you down.

You couldn’t fucking speak. Your eyes snapped open when he shifted, lowering your leg back to the ground, placing a kiss under your navel.

“You good?” he rasped and it took a lot of effort to actually reply instead of simply nodding.

“Yes.” He waited. Right. “Sir.”

His big palms caressed your hips, kissing the skin there.

“Feel like returning the favour, doll?” he asked, voice sultry as much as his gaze.

He would have looked innocent, peeking at you from under his eyelashes like that, but his blown irises gave his arousal away. And you knew better than that, very well-aware of where is mouth had just been.

“Be a good girl like that?” he added, causing the air catch in your throat despite your breathing raging.

How was such praise striking something in you, making you want to do anything just to hear it again? Was this just him or did you have a kink you hadn’t been aware of?

It didn’t matter now. You needed to turn off your brain and enjoy this fully.

“If-if that’s what you want, sir,” you stuttered, his forehead resting against your abdomen at the statement. It brought a satisfied smile to your face – perhaps you weren’t the only one who was a little overwhelmed. You stroked his scalp gently. “Anything to please you.”

He let out a choked noise, rising to his feet at instant, his mouth catching yours in a sweet and salty kiss, his unmistakable jeans-cladded hard rocking into your heat.

“Mouthy, aren’t you? Get on your knees, doll,” he ordered as he spun you, suddenly him being the one with his back against the wall.

You obediently slid down and he lost the shirt that was crying for help on his muscled body anyway. It was a mouth-watering sight even from down there. You wordlessly asked for permission to undo his belt, having it granted. You released him from both, his pants and boxers, his erection springing free. Shit, you almost forgot how big he was.

Steve’s hand tenderly slipped into your hair, guiding you to look up. You were surprised when you saw the fraction of concern in his eyes, a question perhaps, breaking the character he had seemed to slide into rather easily.

The pool of warmth in your chest at the gesture was as unexpected as the act itself. Was it strange, perhaps cowardly of you, that you loved he kept checking with you just to make sure that everything he did was alright with you? Did it make you unadventurous and boring that the fact he showed you every now and then that you could trust him completely, was the biggest turn-on of all?

You smiled at him shyly, the simple lift of the corners of your lips reciprocated instantly. The pad of his thumb swept over your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine.

‘Anything to please you,’ your own words echoed in your head, resonating with truth. You loved him. You did want to make him happy so badly, as much as you knew he wanted you to be.

You kissed the tip of his member, soon taking him between your lips. His hand never released your hair, though his eyelids fluttered shut, shameless moan of satisfaction escaping him. It only encouraged you.

Steve wouldn’t let you finish him and what an early finish would it have been. He pulled your head away, tugging you upright and locking your mouths in a kiss as his hand did the job for you. You would have been confused and maybe even hurt by that action, but you knew him. You knew that no matter what game he was playing, he needed to be certain you would be alright.

“Didn’t want you to strain yourself,” he breathed into your mouth, his voice trembling with aftershock, sucking gently on your lips, his arm wrapped around your waist securely to hold you close with little care for how sticky you both were now thanks to his release.

“I know,” you whispered back, meeting his gaze in a haze, the affection for you written all over his face hitting you like a train. “I love you.”

“And I love you. More than you’ll ever know.”

A teasing smile tucked at the corner of your lips. “Show me? Please, sir?”

He choked out a laugh, his hold getting stronger on you, something poking your stomach as it came back to life.

“Troublemaker, doll. That’s what you are,” he hummed, grinning with a delicious mixture of sweet and intense, like dark chocolate. His not so clean hand cupped your bottom and one of his long fingers teased around your still dripping core. His nose nuzzled your hair, his lips brushing your earlobe with a filthy whisper. “I might have to fuck that cheekiness out of you.”

You gulped at that promise delivered in such foul language, your heart pounding in your chest right against his. Yes, please. It might help with the headache that was slowly beginning to bother you once more.

“Looking forward to it… sir.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Steve clearly felt adventurous, indulging the dominance and the power he held and you gladly let him, knowing the reward would – uh – come in the end. You lost count on how many times he brought you to the very edge only to let you descend again, never letting you tip over and fall. The orgasm that followed when he finally did, your walls clenching around him like a vice, was something you had never experienced before and that said something, considering Steve had been your lover for some time now. It felt like sparkles exploded in every single cell of your body, pounding with never-ending bliss, his cock throbbing in you and sending another flare through your body like in a vicious circle.

Apparently, you had been in Heaven once – and right now, Steve surely gave you a taste of what was it like, because there could not be another explanation. The afterglow was so warm and wonderful you basked in it for God knew how long.

When you finally came back to yourself, Steve’s fingers were tenderly threading in your hair, his lips on your temple. Your eyes fluttered open, causing him to stop and search your face with attentive eyes as he kept himself propped on his elbow.

“Hey, doll, are you okay?” he fussed softly, his breathing back to normal. He was still sporting an adorable flush down his face and chest, an evidence of the effort made and the satisfaction that followed.

“Yeah. This was… wow.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, wounding up a strand of your hair around his finger. His eyes were sparkling and you kinda wanted to slap his chest for the flash of smugness. Instead, you slapped him verbally and very much playfully.

“Yes, sir,” you returned the wide smile and he huffed, falling to your side. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ugh, don’t start again.”

“I’d like to start again… some other time,” you admitted, hopeful your face was still flushed from before, hence not giving away the embarrassment at your admission. “I liked this.”

Steve embraced you firmly, kissing your shoulder. “So did I… maybe too much. You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Nope. Not at all,” you replied cheerily, casting a reassuring gaze aimed straight to his eyes as your voice softened. “You’re always careful, Steve, I know that. And I appreciate it.”

“Alright, then. Let’s revisit this sometime. You’re amazing, doll,” he whispered your favourite endearment like music on his lips. “ I love you. I can’t—I can’t even say how happy I am to have you here. Back with me. Stay?”

The sudden vulnerability almost made your heart stop with the ache, the agony he must have experienced after losing you – but how amazing it actually was, mean of you maybe, but God, he had missed you so much, because he loved you so deeply already – striking you precisely to your very soul. You were right there with him when it came to feelings.

It dawned to you why he would enjoy the feeling of dominance now of all the times you had made love – it gave him an illusion of control over something. What had happened to you, the kidnapping, the bombs, your death… he didn’t have control over that. When the Winchesters had brought you back, there weren’t many things he could do about your amnesia either, leaving him helpless. You had a hunch he felt like having zero control over things for a while now.

This, this incredible experience gave him what he had been craving. You couldn’t fault him for wanting that, more so when you enjoyed it so immensely. After all, both of you were only human in the end.

Only humans. Soulmates. Souls redefined, never the same after merging into one, yet maintaining their singularity. Still better together, gravitating one towards the other too strongly to be kept apart.

You stretched your neck so your lips could reach Steve’s forehead, a loving and caring gesture, comfort he often offered you. The action made him chuckle, an unusual watery sound as tears welled in his eyes as well as in yours.

You lingered for several moments, your eyes finding his then, fond glassy gaze with emotions too heavy to be carried only by one person. You were good at it together though. You softly kissed his lips and then wiggled against him, settling in his arms comfortably, trying to nestle against him in a way that wouldn’t leave an inch between your bodies – and Steve happily assisted you.

“I love you too, Steve. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Part 21

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Well. Now I’m blushing. This was self-indulgent to a fault. 

Hope you liked it, this had been the first time I wrote something with hints of D/s (rememebr, only proofreadng and reposting ao3 chapters, this is almost a ear old), even when playful, so I pray I didn’t muff it up too much :)) I couldn’t leave the fluff behind, obviously.

Two chapters and an epilogue left. Thank you for making it this far and thank you even more if you’re interacting in an way :-*

[annhellsing]

Fleurs du Mal

notes: if i had half a brain cell i’d stagger this shit but you guys know me and i fucking don’t. so the results of my coffee-fuelled write-a-thon last night are being posted at the break of day. enjoy!! rating: explicit, my dudes!! here there be smut!! pairing: homare arisugawa / reader word count: 2,437

Your love, who does not know he is your love, waits patiently before the mirror. 

It’s a bit difficult to understand how he could not know he is loved, really. You undo his tie with all the fondness and familiarity that practice implies. This is not the first time you’ve done this for him, dressed him down to reveal his softer parts. Nor shall it be the last.

All is rather silent but for the ticking of the clock. His grandmother’s record playing Vivaldi’s Autumn has run its course. Neither of you speak at first, content inexplicably with one another’s company to the point that no words are needed.

Homare likes very much when you do this, even if he does not yet know the reason. He likes to imagine that it’s because he’s loved, but working up the courage to confess such a thing is much easier on paper.

Conversation never plagues him so, but you have proven to consistently defy his expectations. He very much cares about what you think of him. And though he is utterly correct, he does often wonder if the mutual dalliances enjoyed on slow afternoons are being misinterpreted on his part.

It stays his tongue in the worst way possible, for you similarly lack the ability to define your relationship. So, you take his clothes off slowly with playful and flirtatious intent. Yet neither of you can admit as much until the act begins.

“With the way that you dress and undress me, I feel a little bit like your doll,” Homare comments, good-natured in tone even as his stomach does flips. Butterflies roost in his chest, not his gut. There is where his words reside, choked and stifled by the flock of delicate wings making his chest flutter uncomfortably.

He wants to say he likes being your doll, could he please be your doll forever? But he does not.

The spell is broken, it seems. You look up at him with soft, loving eyes who’s emotion he is certain he reads incorrectly. You smile at Homare, taking in the beauty of his face and wishing that now were the time for kisses. You’re sparse with them, not wanting to drive him to discomfort with your emotions.

“Mm, you’re prettier than any Barbie,” you tell him, relying on teasing to alleviate how tight your own rib cage is.

His tie’s been cast aside. Your fingers work open buttons without pausing to explore his skin underneath. Homare is fair and beautiful, smooth and clean. He might appreciate comparisons to a lily or a rose, but your resolve wavers when he smiles back. And your compliments die on your tongue.

“I care very little for my appearance,” he begins. You can believe that, at least. “I prefer compliments directed at the mind— ah!”

He cries out for you’ve come to the bottom of his shirt and untucked it from his waistband. You press your hand to his lower stomach, drawing your palm up his chest and feeling with a confidence that you can’t voice. 

“Softer, too,” you mumble, unable to say anything more. Homare’s smile returns quickly, with a fox-like tilt that emboldens you just a bit. He seems pleased, if still surprised with the attention.

“You can thank Azuma for that, he was quite transparent about his skincare routine,” Homare adds. Your shoulders shake with a quiet laugh.

“That’s nice of him,” you say. Your hands move of their own accord, pulling him a little closer by the thin taper of his waist. Homare turns towards the mirror. You take up the place behind him, drawing his back against your warm chest.

You explore, as soft and careful as any lover. And yet he is still quite sad about the fact that the two of you are not in love. He reaches behind, holding your hips but allowing you a moment to touch and feel at your leisure.

“I quite agree,” he chimes, settling in for the long haul of touches meant to heat the blood. He’s already stirring in more ways than one, fighting back small and contented noises on the basis of pride. 

With you, Homare is gripped by a phantom desire to expound your virtues and profess the depth of his emotions. But a pride that does not belong to him rattles his ability to do so. It belongs to his past, he suspects, to one woman in particular who was easily able to destroy him.

Of course, he does not recognize this behaviour as destructive at all. Only honest. You have been left with the pieces of his heart she scattered. He only hopes it’s some time before you cut yourself on them.

But you touch him like he is not broken glass, indeed as if he were not broken at all. Your clever fingers undo the button in his dress pants, making him stiffen up in anticipation in more ways than one.

You coax relaxation from his slight frame once again with patience. However, he still finds it difficult to breathe as you dip your hand into the front of his trousers.

Surprised by what you find, your eyebrows lift. That smile comes back, just as fox-like as his while you feel beneath his boxers.

“Did Azuma show you how to take care of what’s down here, too?” you ask. That impish smile of yours burns in the mirror. Homare feels very exposed, even with his shirt hanging only part way open and his trousers still preserving his modesty.

He understands your joke enough to give a short laugh, the sound somewhat strained, but does not retreat. You take to stroking the skin around his half-hard length, which is fast approaching fully erect under such careful attention.

Homare gives a strangled sigh as you explore, your hand cupping his balls and giving a soft squeeze. He’s mostly smooth to the touch. You set your head on his shoulder, content to feel.

“That was a bit of experimentation on my part,” he admits, turning to look at you. He gives the end of your nose a gentle peck. Unable to keep himself still any more, his hand falls to your wrist. His grip is loose and unhurried. He doesn’t want you to stop, exactly.

But the tightness of his fingers increases a bit when you brush somewhere not sensitive, but painful. Your expression shifts to one of concern.

“Poor thing, you nicked yourself,” you say. You retreat from the source of pain but do not fully remove your hand.

“There is a reason I am not in the sciences, my flower,” Homare smiles still at you, hoping that his mishap with the razor won’t put you off. He’s aching for you now, his lower belly now a mess of writhing anxiety and glorious heat.

“Ask me if you want help with any further experiments, angel,” you say, offering up a soft kiss immediately following. He sighs again, as you return to your former occupation with even more care not to hurt him further.

“Your enthusiasm is rather exciting,” he says. His voice takes on a rather unexpected, sultry tone. You lift an eyebrow. “I do hope a few minor flesh wounds won’t chase you off.”

“You look ravishing, Homare. Where else have I to go that’s half as interesting?” and he has no answer to such a question. He supposes, had you any idea of his true nature, you might find elsewhere to spend your time.

But as it stands, you return to him time and time again. 

Rather, he returns to you. His family home is a little lonely, and has been ever since his grandmother passed. But you look after his parents when they have need, and after Aeriel when she does. 

It’s almost shameful to Homare that his love’s picked you because his dog decided you were good at heart. But he looks at your smiling face in the mirror, at the way you dip your head to kiss his neck and he knows you’d find no shame at all in that. You’d likely be flattered.

Of course, if you didn’t spurn his affections wholesale. He would understand that entirely. But as it stands, you’ve neither asked for such things nor voiced any true feelings you may harbour. He is more than content with this passionate, if infrequent affair as it is. At least this way you’ll stay with him.

“You’re very clever to realize that you stand in the presence of a poetic genius,” he muses. “Very few know to appreciate my company, muse.” You bite down very softly on his neck, pulling from him a quiet mewl. In his ear, you whisper,

“Tonight, I think you’re the muse,” and the shiver that runs up his spine is nothing short of wanton. You grip him on two fronts, putting a hand both to his throat and around the base of his cock. Homare stiffens and then sighs.

You apply no pressure to either, you simply hold him as he is with his back to your chest. While he can admit that the two areas you’ve sought out are quite delicate, he’s glad to an extent that you did not think to take him by the heart. At least, not literally.

“Will you come to bed?” you ask, “Or shall I see what other secrets you’re keeping underneath your trousers.”

“Take me,” he whispers, goosebumps rising on the back of his neck when your lips find his shoulder. Your hand leaves his throat, moving down his chest before falling to his side.

You entwine your fingers with his and remove your other hand from his trousers. Homare is turned around and guided towards the mess of pillows and quilt at the centre of his parent’s guest room.

He sits, looking almost in a daze. You’re still mostly dressed as well, but when you guide his hands up your thighs and to the waistband of your underwear, Homare understands. He plays a moment with the soft, elastic lace. His thin fingers touch your thighs with a reverence best reserved for church. 

“Don’t tease me, muse,” you whisper to him, “that’s my job.” Leaning in, you take another, fragile kiss. Homare decides to be petulant, biting gently at your lip and seizing forward all of a sudden so that he might still have your lips on his.

You indulge, doting and gentle as always while your hands push into his bright locks of hair. Homare seems hesitant to take your panties off, moving his hands over the roundness of your hips and the outward press of your pelvic bone. Over the fabric, he makes a show out of exploring your mound.

Your hand grips the hair at the back of his head when it becomes obvious he’s dragging his feet. It’s only ever for the sake of irking you, and the reaction is one he favourably courts.

“My, my, my, never in all my years have I met a woman with such impatience,” he exclaims, “and not to mention so lacking in a sense of humour.”

“Oh, I have a sense of humour,” you say, “wouldn’t it be funny indeed to make my own fun without any help from yourself?”

Homare is quite glad that his ego is feeling rather strong today. Such teasing holds no bite. But still, as if to turn the thought from your mind he begins to slide your panties down your thighs.

“That’s better,” you say, “I do love you.”

His hands still.

Those eyes, red and so often full of sly emotion go wide as dinner plates. Homare looks stricken for a second, as if you’ve said something truly awful as opposed to a confession. He stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“You love me?” he asks, his voice now more like a croak than its previous, sultry invitations. Slowly, you nod.

“I---” you start. You close your mouth. It was a mistake to so freely give it up, but the sentiment is truthful. You do love him very much. “Have I never told you?”

“I thought---” Homare begins, but the second half of his sentences dies. “Come, kiss me again. I have been denied that for far too long.”

“Only because you stay away for ages,” you reply, settling back into the familiar territory of breathless kisses. You touch your lips to his, bending down to reach his new height.

You crawl into his lap and his big, thin hands support you. The kissing comes and does not ebb, every time you try to pull away to speak he hauls you back in for more. It’s almost like he’s looking for something between your lips, the courage to speak his own truth.

It comes on swift after you push him onto his back. Homare falls with you on top of him, caught up in the sound of your heady laugh as you shift and hold yourself above him.

“I love you, too,” he starts very suddenly, lifting his head so that you are near enough for comfort. “Never doubt I love, my flower.”

“Mm, really?” you ask, though your tone still holds that gentle teasing that so sets him at ease. Homare doubts you are trying to name him liar, you place both of his hands on entirely scandalous locations. You fiddle with his trousers to try and press towards unity.

He’ll allow it, the both of you have been bubbling with unrequited tension for far too long.

“I love you in so many ways that they cannot be counted,” he insists, “though since I am poet I shall no doubt have to try---”

You dip your head, taking another kiss.

“I’ll count mine for you,” you say, “my reasons number in the thousands.”

“Flatterer,” he scolds, though the criticism holds no malice.

“Hypocrite!” you exclaim, tossing your head back and laughing over him like you belong nowhere else. Homare grips your hips and prays you can think of nowhere better to sit. “Your poems hold truths aplenty but you speak too highly of me in most of them.”

“Never,” he says, his lips finding the center of your sternum with the intent to kiss through your skin. If he focuses, he can hear the perfect beat of your fond heart. “I could never find the words to speak higher of you than what you’ve earned.”

“Write that down, Homare,” you playfully urge. But your hand moves somewhere dangerous yet again, making him moan and driving all thoughts of poetry from his mind. He’s nearly-incoherent when you add, “But not right this minute. I have things to do presently.”

[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

[synchronmurmurs]

🌹🥀🌹 give me only your finest of poetic lines o writer mine, (cause I love knowing what people’s favourite bits of prose are but if you don’t have one smut will do too)

🥺🥺 Nonnie bless you. I hope what I’ve selected meets your expectations - it’s a lil’ snippet of my upcoming Spardaverse one shot involving some timey wimey shenanigans and past regrets. I don’t really (or even really like to) say this about my own writing, but I’m proud of this bit. 😭 It’s also really long, considering what the original meme was asking for lksdfh way to go me, putting all the “good” parts in the previews so when people read the whole thing, they’re underwhelmed. Hollywood should hire me to make their movie trailers for them OOP–

He looks up again, scans the windows of the house, and he wonders where she is on this day, the blonde woman with the red shawl whose mere memory stirs up… something within him. He can't name the feeling, but can attribute its symptoms to words like "unease" and "anxiety". "Sadness" and "a fleeting warmth". A certain "heaviness" and "longing" that keeps him rooted to the spot right on the very edge of the estate, where he stands, and also stands out. It isn't merely that he's out of place in the obvious sense, but in every possible meaning of the term too; in body, in soul, in time, and in place. His coat is just too dark and too drab against the pastel sky, memories too burdened and complex for this moment from a time long past, but he supposes he'll tolerate it for a little longer. Just until he can glimpse, like a ghost haunting his own memories, the blonde woman with the red shawl whose mere memory stirs up a bittersweet nostalgia.

Ah, he muses to himself, so that's what it is.

[darkartsandcrafts]

The Best Of

The Goldfinch AO3 tags

Deepest apologies to the authors.  Probably of interest only to @wellntruly and maybe @antiquesfreaks

this is so niche, if a single person reads it i will be happy, it is completely self indulgent, Imaginary Rain , [theodore decker voice] i'm a homosexual having a panic attack,  also xandra is there I guess, ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING, theo has a crisis because thats his Brand, theo's a whole mess, boris is a slightly different mess,  theo is a little bitch, sad times with boris &theo what else is new, apocalypse in a very american sense, they live in Costco, they r just liddol creatures, i am a SLUT for water, this is basically just a love letter to the desert and the sky, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise, Not really a fic as much as it is an experiment

Romantic Face Punching, i mean.... that's literally a tag so i'll use it, It's bittersweet my dudes, boris waxes poetic about his bird, russian vampire that glows, it was way too easy for me to project onto Boris, theo said 'nothing rly happened in antwerp', i said 'you are an unreliable narrator and a Fool please step aside', Theo Decker should be considered his own warning, Theo Decker's Toxic Masculinity, rip to donna tartt but I'm different so they're lesbians now, there will be smut but it will be artsy, and theos parents but who can be asked to put them, Hurt No Comfort 

Well maybe a little bit of comfort, The briefest and barest mention of Boris's fuck-me pumps, some real basic bitch fic but I had to get it out of my system, I promise this isn’t as depressing as it sounds, the sharp ache of memory, the thrill and terror of getting what you want, 

Excessive Drinking 

Heavy Drinking 

Drinking to Cope

 Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Magical Realism, take shot every time theo says fuck and/or is gay and bitchy, its a TURNBULL AND ASSER SUIT, Gratuitous Fleetwood Mac Referencing, slight drowning mention, underage lots of things because its them,  google translate Russian, Underage Drinking but like this is the Goldfinch we’re talking about, theo has been to therapy and knows one (1) distress tolerance technique, Theo's too neurotic to top but can unrepress just enough to bottom,  i like to believe donna tartt would condone this if she believed in love, They really put that scene in the movie huh, TOO MANY REFERENCES AND I AM NOT EVEN SORRY FOR THEM 

donna tartt i just want to talk  

and he cries his eyes out and they listen to the magnetic fields, nostalgia for two days ago, they listen to music and flop around, they're a little drunk but when aren't they,  Boris POV bc theo pov is difficult and also depressing, theo isn't as canonically repressed here oops,  theo did write boris a letter he just never included it bc it's gay, i hope they know i would die for them, @ donna tartt u too bitch i love u, Heavy pining you guys, i went hard with the hand holding in this, They've kind of gotten their lives together!, Boris still works in art crime though,  they're drunk

but what else is new, idk if this is good or if im just on my third drink, is it homo to want to kiss your best bro? maybe so,  no homo your way out of this decker, boris is basically a pillow princess but who’s surprised, smoking in bed is an activity for french movies and repressed gays, we don’t admit to feelings we emotionally repress like men, obviously boris is into some kinky shit, boris is dead sorry

very sad actually,  the world needed some boris' pov so i did my job, i'm not projecting onto theo he's just me, i'm not even projecting onto theo anymore he's literally me, i managed to write some sort of happy ending,  it was way to easy to write from theo's pov and i'm worried, interpret the end how you want i guess, it was so easy to project onto theo it's kinda concerning,  They weirdly don't do drugs in here, the usual shit that happens in goldfinch, the boys go rollerskating, Like Really Fucking Sad,  flangst city bois, theo is a clingy drunk, if only he were like this when he’s sober,  Theo committed suicide, I mean Theo really did it, Boris didn't stop him, Theo may not like this, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction,  Theo is a pretentious dick, Mental Institutions,  one instance of projectile vomiting,  Questionable Marriage

[tumbler-tidbits]

12 Fic Recs for yall this wonderfull Friday. Including the prize for my last 2 winners... their personalized Fic Rec list.

Winner 2/3 was @fangirlforeversworld who requested angst! Here you go lovely! Enjoy.

1)Better Than Revenge by @67midnightwriter

Link:https://impala-dreamer.tumblr.com/post/180093959440/better-than-revenge

Summary: Mick Lives

Characters: Sam x Beka, Dean, Mick, Ketch

Warnings:Angst. Graphic Detail. Death. Dark Fic. Mick’s Sarcasm.

My Review: I will be honest, I haven’t had the time to read this one, but the reblogs and comments are a testament to its quality! Apparently you can expect a lot of heartache and a few not so fun surprises!

2)Sam and Matches by @idreamofhazel

Link:http://idreamofhazel.tumblr.com/post/179799715809/sam-matches

Summary: Drabble

Characters: Reader, Dean, Sam

Warnings: Angst, character death, feels!

My Review: I literally teared up reading this, and it’s only 500 words! Ugh where’s the tissues?!

3)Always Have, Always Will by @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting

Link: https://spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting.tumblr.com/post/178956807474/always-have-always-will

Summary: On the biggest day of Dean’s life, nothing goes the way he had hoped. Everything went wrong. It always does for a Winchester

Pairing: Dean x reader, Sam and Castiel

Warnings: Swearing, pure angst, depression, self-hate, self-harm, mentions of sexual assault, violence, suicide (graphic), and character death

My Review: Ok y’all I’m gonna be brutally honest... this one hurts! ALOT. So please HEED THE WARNINGS . Jess’ writing is amazing and the fact that she had so many of us in tears is testament to that fact! The pain starts immediately and let me tell you it gets worse as you read. Yes it is soul crushing but it is also poetically beautiful 😭😭😭 which is why I repeat,HEED THE WARNINGS. “Always have, Always will” has a special meaning and makes the story that much more dynamic and beautiful❤️❤️❤️ if your a fan of angst or even if your not (like me) if you don’t have triggers, give this fic a try.

4)Death by Love by @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting

Link:https://spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting.tumblr.com/post/180092548708/death-by-love

Summary:Pain and Sadness

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean

Warnings: Angst, anger, character death, grief, and maybe some fluff if you squint really hard

My Review: Well if you want a good (or bad) cry then Jess is your girl! She is the queen of angst! P.S Jess, I hate you!😉 I literally felt my heart crumble like the readers. OUCH 💔🖤 Please excuse me while I sob in the corner. Oh and she’s not done breaking your heart, Part 2 is coming!

5)Don’t Take the Girl by @supernatural-teamfreewillpage

Link:https://supernatural-teamfreewillpage.tumblr.com/post/177296794723/dont-take-the-girl-deansam-witch-brother-you

Summary: Based on the song by Tim Mcgraw

Pairing: Pick a Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Angst, character death

My Review: THIS. Omg Ash 💔💔This song has struck a nerve ever since I was a child and to this day it gives me chills and tears in my eyes! I can’t listen to it anymore... but my twin does an amazing job of incorporating the supernatural life into the song and giving ya all the feels!

Winner 3/3 is my girl @dean-winchesters-bacon she requested Dean/Jensen smut but I already know what she likes. LOVE YOU BITCH aka Mother lol, enjoy! 😘❤️

1)Hunt Hard Play Harder Part 1&2 by @rockhoochie

Link:https://rockhoochie.tumblr.com/post/167250842694/hunt-hard-play-harder-part-1

Summary: Dean and his girl finally have some time alone.

Pairing: Dean x OFC, Sam

Warnings: Shameless Smut, PWP, Name-Calling, Dom/Sub Undertones, Outdoor Sex, Impala Sex, Hair-Pulling, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex (M/F receiving), Unprotected Sex

My Review: HOLY FUCKING SHIT! This is.... this is just. WOW! Holy Hell I can barely breathe. This one gives you Dom!Dean AND Sub!Dean and both are equally sensual and erotic! There’s even a surprise ending! Which had my pulse racing... Whew 🔥 My bitches y’all will love this one!

2)Sweet by @kathaswings

Link:https://kathaswings.tumblr.com/post/165516770130/sweet

Summary: A little bit of Dom!Dean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, canon-typical violence and minor injury, bossy/dom!Dean, fingering, biting, bordering on rough sex, oral (female receiving), angst, FLUFF (gosh, I hope I didn’t forget anything)

My Review: Most of us have a kink for Dom!Dean and this fic does not disappoint! From the throes of hot passion to the sweet intimate moments, your sure to love this one!

3)Wrecked by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Link:https://thoughtslikeaminefield.tumblr.com/post/179754691063/wrecked

Summary:Jensen after performing at SNS.

Pairing: Jensen x you, Jensen x reader

Warnings: Kissing, Vaginal Fingering, Clothed Sex, Wall Sex, Slight Chain Metal Kink, lip biting, Jensen Ackles in that fucking CBGB t-shirt and hat and the wallet chain WTF dude, Let's pretend he's single, Like a Wrecking Ball, you know why, Smut, Shameless Smut, Consent is Sexy, NSFW

My Review: I loved hearing Jensen sing this song at SNS and holy shit I’ve been waiting for the smut ever since! FINALLY! Lord forgive me but he can wreck me anytime! Ladies thank MJ for fulfilling our fantasies!

4)Sleepless by @becaamm

Link:http://becaamm.tumblr.com/post/168396512019/sleepless-nsfw

Summary: When you can’t fall asleep, Dean helped you in a very unorthodox way

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: Smut. A bit of exhibitionism. Squirting.

My Review: Well if this one doesn’t have your panties dripping then there is something wrong with ya! Whew 🔥 This one gets you right in the praise!kink... enough said! Grab some fresh panties ladies!

5)What I Needed by @casafrass

Link:https://casafrass.tumblr.com/post/175577704176/what-i-needed-dean-x-reader-x-jo

Summary: Threesome

Pairing: Dean x Reader x Jo

Warnings: ll the sex. Oral sex (fem receiving), p in v sex, female reader, dom Dean, sub!reader, sub!Jo, tongues everywhere, handcuffs, tying up, reader is spread-eagled, Dean is called Sir, you’re called Princess, it’s some porny porn y’all

My Review: This was oddly erotic! I don’t typically go for f/f/m but this was hot! And Dom!Dean was the cherry on top! My only complaint is it should be longer!

*BONUS RECS*

1)Mr.Quackers by @impala-dreamer

Link:https://impala-dreamer.tumblr.com/post/180076606383/mr-quackers

Summary: None lol

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: NSFW SMUT, Crack!Fic, hilarity

My Review: They say that crack is whack, well in this case quack is whack 😂😂 This little drabble with have you laughing until you cry, it’s just that ducking funny! (See what I did there?)

2)So Good Dean by @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

Link:https://tumbler-tidbits.tumblr.com/post/180013841061/leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid-so-good-dean

Summary: This moment was something completely new to Dean

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: sex toys, vibrator, prostate milking, Dom/sub elements, sub!Dean, praise kink

My Review: Ok so most of us have an affinity to Dom!Dean but Sun!Dean can be just as sexy when done correctly and by God does Sundae do it correctly! This is so fucking erotic it will make you wet! No joke it’s AMAZING!!

@supernatural-teamfreewillpage @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants @pisces-cutie @covered-byroses @anotherwaywardsister @currentlyfangirling99 @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @spnmightkillme @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @xxhalfbloodprincessxx @supernaturalsammy01 @evansrogerskitten @sammyimpala-67 @lunarboycas @bobasheebaby @ladywinchester1967 @sweetiepie-dean @ruthiesconnells @fangirl-forevers-world @spnskinnyballs @kbl1313 @ravenangel33

[sugar-petals]

Simulacrum of Dawn (m)

simulacrum: resemblant image or representation of reality, mirage

— summary: A beautiful incubus comes to warm you up at night. He resembles your boyfriend Jimin an awful lot. — pairing: sub!Jimin x Dom!Reader | fantasy au | 2.4k — warnings: loss of reality, smut, prostitution, coarse language, infidelity: unclear

Dusk.

The heating does not work.

It just stopped without any warning. Not one. To hell with this old flat.

To hell with this cruel city, too. The brothels, the clubs in the district.

In fact, screw everything about his day.

You hope that the new windows seal in the warmth for at least a few hours this night. Last Wednesday the same incident had spoiled date night with Jimin, but had somewhat solved itself.

The problem wasn’t uncommon anyways. Well, fuck. You learned that it usually takes four to six hours until the rusty boiler makes a grumbling recovery. If it doesn’t, freezing to death is not part of your plan.

You turn the control valve all the way up to the stop. When the heat returns during your sleep as you predict it, you want the maximum capacity to kick in. Heck, you want a giant explosion of heat.

The television flickers at the other end of the room while you sort through your wardrobe, looking for a sweater and other cozy knit to slip into. Two fleece blankets from the living room serve as a decent barrier under your duvet. If you could only remember where the electric one is.

The news anchor behind you monotonously announces more bad weather and difficulties at New Year celebrations in Seoul until you switch off. Driving delivery after the holidays will be a tough job. You send Jimin a goodnight message and a selfie. “Love you, babe. How’s the beach? It’s cold here.”

“I hate the beach. You’re missing. Think about our last night. Don’t forget it,” he texts back fast with a little heart emoji. A selfie pops up one minute later. It shows Jimin in his saffron yellow bathrobe, chest wide exposed. “Or just try this. Warm greetings from Busan,” the caption says. He writes that he goes to bed now, promising to visit the upcoming weekend. His car will be fixed by then.

Police sirens blare outside like howling wolves. Winter Seoul is busy, sick, and preoccupied outside, and so is your head. It’s hard to pass out since a bone-chilling cold creeps into the room already. Frostbite, here you come. December sucks so much. The snow has to melt already. So the new year will be better for you and Jimin. The gaudy stores downtown redecorate already. It’s that’s what you want for the New Year as well.

The lingering image of him helps you ease down your pants a fair bit, hand reaching between your legs to create the much-needed, long-absent stimulation. He needs to come back as soon as possible. You hurry to warm up your body at least a bit. The temperature in the room keeps falling regardless, leaving the tip of your nose icy cold and red. Pulling the heavy duvet over your head is silly, but it does help. But fear can’t be veiled just like that.

What if the heating won’t come back later this night?

The typical minus degrees in this borough are unrelenting. Just like the people here. Jimin should be next to you right now with his little crinkled nose and bubbly laughs, just making everything easier. Pressed against you fending off the dire cold. But Busan is so far away, and he’s lonely at the beach.

Your orgasm arrives flat and unsatisfying. Just an empty shudder. You know that Jimin is the one when even he’s better at pleasing you than you can please yourself. Part of your sex drive is already dead, that’s what the cold can’t take from you. And, at least you’re more tired now. Winter got outsmarted twice.

Since last week there’s construction work at the avenue, so the people are redirected to the side roads. That’s good for rest these days. Sleep starts to come once at least the police sirens lapse into silence. Seoul nonetheless keeps on raging and frolics in the neighborhood, leaving the acerbic prostitutes in fur coats and platforms well-tipped.

It’s a sad but flourishing business after Christmas is over. Less austere than how it is all year round. But the red-light district is still more wretched and forlorn than ever, darting continuous voices of dictatorial pimps and neon rays into your room from below. The prospect of sleep fades. It’s getting unusually loud.

Because the window is open.

An immense heat gives you a screaming start, kicking away all the blankets. You glance around the room in panic. Is there a raid again, and they got the wrong room? No, the answer is at the window. Perched in the frame sits—

Beloved Jimin.

Dressed summerly in gold, playing with his locks like a little cherub. Really, is it him? The midnight haze won’t let you tell. 

“Is there a problem?” he coos from gentle lips. “I’m at your service, Lady Kwon.”

He knows your name. The voice it the exact same, too. It has to be Jimin. You can trust your eyes when your ears say yes, his soft timbre is one of a kind. How he came here, why it’s through the window, the heat, the debonair attire: You fail to grasp. Maybe it’s the latest fad in Busan. But it doesn’t matter. Your urgent wish came true, he’s here. 

“I just want you close... stop fooling around at the window.”

He detaches from the frame, descending light and elegant to the carpeted floor. 

“As you wish. Yes, I should probably close it as well,” he concurs benign and turns the handle with a gentle flick of the wrist. How you love the way he speaks. The flat has been so desolate without it.

Jimin lays down next to you sans his tiny sandals that he slid under your bed. For some reasons, he gives off massive waves of heat. That’s not normal. He is dressed so differently today, very ‘genteel’ as your co-driver Namjoon would say, and doesn’t smell the same. Like he doesn’t belong in this part of town, and escaped the burden of his former life. But kissing his chubby cheek creates the same kind of elevated feeling you always get. It’s him, you know it.

“Everything in best order? How do you feel?” he beams at you, tracing the spot where your lips just left with one bejeweled hand. Jimin never had a penchant for that, but it suits him.

“Shitty, that’s it,” you crawl over to him on all fours, closing the painful distance. “Babe... I missed you tons. Can’t get off without you.” His smile dwindles as you say that. Jimin knows how much his absence hurts. “I need you. Can we?”

“My delight is to always please you. Are you warm? I’m ready”

“Yes, I’m warm. Poetic today?” you climb on top to have tender seat just at the vertex of his thighs. The golden vestment hangs low from his shoulders in a waterfall, ends just inches before you. 

“Everything for my splendid Goddess.” 

Jimin marvels at you with big eyes. He begins to fumble at your knees as if trying to peel off the paisley pattern from the pants could work. The heat is unbearable. That golden garment needs to be off without much further ado, otherwise this drought would end it all.

You slide off the velvet cascades and damask drapes, hungry to take in what’s underneath. The luscious body you’ve been craving. Firm, compact, flawless. It takes forever to peel off your own layers of clothing. Your heartbeat is going beserk. No more ice crystals at the window. The room has turned into a sauna. This is not Seoul. You lean down to have Jimin suck off your breasts. 

His skin is almost scalding hot, his lips, the nose against your collarbone. You fear that he’ll burn you, but even his red-hot lips don’t leave a trace around your nipples as he savors them. He’s just hot to the touch, and you absorb it all. Jimin, he’s your fiery little cherub. Like the sun had decided to enter a human body just to lay down in this bed. 

Your chest feels set ablaze under the gentle brush from his blonde hair while he keeps sucking, kissing, and giving off sweet moans. Finally. You thought that would never resound in this flat again. His lips are so overwhelmingly soft and big, and part wide to cup your breasts. The jacquard of Jimin’s wide trousers slips down rigidly, slowly under a lascivious pull. He’s hard against your abdomen. 

“Jimin babe, stop for a minute. We need a condom.”

“I would wait forever for you,” Jimin pulls off your breasts with a content smile. Whatever he had for breakfast, it must have made him this way. You reach to rummage in your nightstand for the familiar little stack. Unused since the last week, waiting for times when you’re yearning for him. This took so long. The thin latex feels like melting on him, but it doesn’t.

The eager heat disseminates when you sink down on him. The fire inside makes for an exciting flare, easy to take in. You’ve always been grateful for the handy size. Jimin’s golden necklaces and bracelets tingle with every sway of your hips going in circles. Ra, crowned falcon god of the sun devoured by aeviternal Nut, Goddess of the firmament. Your skies encapsulate the luminous and pulsating firmness. You bury your teeth in Jimin’s neck until his light gives birth to vibrant stars with little drips. He only pulls out after his hands between your legs have found the craving spot, making you bend forward under little circles.

You pull off the condom, deliver a dozen firm pumps with two hands around him. Jimin is repeating your name over and over again. Your belly feels wet with his cum. He lies next to you singing after calming down a bit, chanting words unknown. It’s a language sounding familiar in a way because you feel what he means, but foreign in its syllables. It’s not the slang from the cold avenue. You caress his hair, his cheeks. And play with his adornments. 

He really smells much sweeter today, like chamomile. December is so much more appealing tonight. The brothels don’t matter. They will cease one distant day, and life will be better for everyone. Every woman and every man. Whatever they construct in the street, it must be something good. The neon advertisements, all the red lights, you know they shine as warm and bright like him and your love.

The soothing heat only ceases when Jimin comes to rise at the edge of the bed, saying he must leave after a small kiss. And another. A third one. It paralyzes you. That cannot be. It can’t. He only arrived just now. You protest, but he already topples toward the window barefoot. 

“Please don’t leave. Why do you leave?”

Jimin ruffles his hair back into place. His necklace consoles you with little clinks when he turns the handle, letting in the dreaded breeze. But you’re still warm in bed. He left enough comfort for you. 

“Goodbye,” he smiles, “we’ll meet again.” 

And at the next blink, the frame is empty. The window closed. The breeze abated, so did the flashy neon signs.

It’s dawn. 

He’s gone, no trace. You turn around to get the last dose of sleep you can get, even if every thought returns to torment you with questions. At one point, you’re too tired to care. The haze of sleep descends at last. It’s dragging you down into an abyss. Not dark, but golden. It’s like you can still hear his voice somewhere, it’s eerie. But also a solace you knew the last days needed.

You want to hit the snooze button in your delirious state as it rings. Instead, you almost knock over a hot cup of camomile tea on your nightstand. There are fresh croissants with butter, too. And toast. 

“Easy, easy. Good morning,” a soft voice soothes next to you. It’s familiar. You turn around.

“Jimin?!”

“Hey, jagiya. The car got fixed yesterday.”

He’s in his yellow pajama. Hair messy, lips a bit chapped. A bit tired overall.

“Didn’t you leave just this morning?”

That raises his brows. 

“Y/N... I know your fantasy is very intricate. But this has to be a joke. I left last week!” 

Astounding. You feel the electric blanket at your side as you turn towards him. Of course, he took it with him to Busan. 

“When did you get here?”

“I slipped in when it was starting to get really warm in here. I don’t know when exactly. But I left the heater this way. You turned it up this way with good reason, right? You said it’s cold here. So I switched on the blanket, too”

Indeed the radiator is busy rumbling at the wall. The room’s all stoked up, window steamed. 

“Yes, right. But you really showed up here this early?”

“Well, hm. Maybe around midnight. You were really clingy against me for hours. At sunrise I left to make breakfast, ventilated for a bit. Just now I slipped back.”

“Did I say something to you earlier, or...?”

“I just know you said I’m poetic while you were sleeping. That was super funny. Y/N, what did you eat the evening before?” 

There isn’t much you can say. Better than sleepwalking. Jimin breaks one croissant in half and distributes some jelly on it. 

You stand up to turn down the control valve of the heater, then start eating next to him. So the car did get fixed. The beach wasn’t so boring, he made pictures. He shows them on his phone until only a couple crumbs of toast are left. The sun is brilliant through the receding steam on the window glass. Jimin switches off the electric blanket and says you’ll go and see the fireworks at the Han River, he got tickets for the fair.  

The police sirens are now closer than ever. Business as usual. A dusty concrete mixer rattles down the avenue but gets stuck in traffic. In the bathroom, the shower started running. Chances are that Jimin’s bathrobe will get its great moment in ten minutes. The teacup is empty when you check the space underneath your bed with one tentative arm. 

And there are shoes. 

Panic-stricken, you raise them from the ground and glance over the edge of the bed.

Just Jimin’s red sneakers. 

Do not repost or translate my works. © 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved.

[scarlette-joel-writing]

Erased Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Requested by: Me

Warnings: Violence, and language.

A/N this might turn out to be 6 or 7 parts. Oops.

~

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7 Part 8  Part 9 Part 10  Part 11  Part 12 Part 13

-One month later-

It has been about a month and a half since the last time that I had to pull Bucky back from the cliffs of insanity and about a month since I basically told him to fuck off and not talk to me anymore.

Was it super petty and stupid and kind of rude? Definitely. Am I going to be the first one to apologize and make everything right? Hell no.

I mean, I don’t think that I have to be the first one to apologize. I really don’t think that I did anything wrong. I was the one that was trying to help him. The one that was trying to make everything better for him. Help him sleep better and help him forget some of the horrible things that he did because those Russian scientists thought that it would be fun to turn him into their own personal Rag Doll.

BUT NO. He completely wants to treat me like a tiny little child that is going to break at the first sign of trouble and that was kind of my last straw. I have been treated like a kid by Natasha and Wanda and Steve and Tony, and everyone else in this building – even though I am 25 and have two PHD’s in psychology and sociology – but to have him do that to me, to have him treat me like a kid hurt. I had always assumed that he would be the one that treated me like I was supposed to be treated. Guess I was wrong.

I am currently in my living room, reading a book that I had picked up a couple days ago from the local Half Priced Books. Because I am not an actual part of the Avengers team, because I dont go out and save the world or go on all of the life-threatening missions, no one really knows my face or my story. They don’t know who I am or what I can do and sometimes that is really sad to think about. Sad to think that no one knows what I can do.

But that also means that I don’t have to worry about people coming up to me when I am out and about. Not like with Cap, or Black Widow, or even the Winter Soldier. They are known. They have fan fics written about them and smut written about all of them. Tumblrs dedicated to them. I don’t. I don’t have to worry about a mob of people coming after me for my autograph, though sometimes I wish that they would.

The rest of the team went out on a mission about 2 days ago. Apparently out to the middle of nowhere Russia to take out one of the final hydra bases. I hadn’t even gone to the mission meeting because I knew what they were going to say. I knew that it was gonna be the same thing over and over and over again. Them telling me that I wasnt ready or that I wasn’t strong enough. Always the same.

Suddenly there is a loud ringing in my ears and I drop my book to pick up my cell phone to my ear. Then comes the screaming from the other end.

“Y/N!!!” It is Natasha that is screaming at me and I pull the phone away.

“What is wrong?!” I ask as I sit up straight and let her talk into the phone. I can feel her fear and anger over the phone. Can hear the erratic heartbeats that thumps in her chest and the way that her brain is filled with thoughts of killing. So many thoughts running through her brain that I cant sort all of them out.

“Its Bucky! I don’t know how all of these hydra guys keep getting through to him, but they do! And this time he escaped! We couldn’t catch him in time. Watch out. He might be coming back for you,” Natasha says and then the call goes dead.

And that is when the high pitched sound pierces my ears and I double over from the ringing that comes through my head and scrambles my brain. It makes me fall to my knees and suddenly the elevator door opens and the first thing that I can see is the metal arm of the Winter Soldier. And the second thing that I see is the dark blue eyes of a guy that has been taken over by the dark side

“И снова здравствуйте. Запомни меня?” Hello again. Remember me? He takes a step off of the elevator and I can see the small machine in his hand that is emitting the high frequency wave that is causing my powers not to work. If I cant think properly, I cant use my powers.

Fuck.

“I know that you can speak English, asshole,” I can barely get the words out because my ears are throbbing and my brain has no idea what to do with the fact that it cant do anything. It wants to go into panic mode but that would be disastrous.

“Then I guess you already know that I know that if I get rid of you, no one will be able to bring James back. You die, and James Buchanan Barnes dies with you,” this side of Bucky has a Russian Accent. He holds his head high and he embraces the evil that resides within him. So different from the Bucky that hides away from the things that he has done.

“Look at you, being all poetic and shit,” I spit out. And that is when the first kick comes directly to my face and knocks me backward, onto my back. The back of my head hits the hard tile floor and black spots begin to appear in my vision.

Don’t go into panic mode. Don’t go into panic mode.

“Look at you, pretending to be brave,” A kick to the stomach. “Pretending to be strong,” Another kick to the ribs. I can feel it crack and I can feel the wind be knocked out of my lungs.

Gasping for breath. Trying not to pass out. These are the two things that I am worried about right now. I can still hear and feel the high pitched wail that pierces my brain. I am also worried about turning that thing off. I turn it off and I win this fight.

“I am strong. You just like to cheat,” I pull myself onto my hands and knees with shaky limbs, but that gives him the perfect opportunity to kick my stomach again. I am so close to falling over but I take a deep breath and then pull myself onto my feet. Not an easy feat, might I add.

“That isn’t going to work on me. I am not above cheating to get what I want,” As soon as I am on my feet, there is a fist to my cheek and I stumble back a couple steps. Everything hurts and with that siren wailing in my brain, this man might actually get his wish. I might die here.

“Then I guess you wouldn’t minded if I cheated either,” I give him a smile that is bloody and weak and that one second of a confused look is all that I need to get him where I want him.

I take a deep breath, step forward, and land a fist straight to his jaw. He takes one step back, but I am following him. The high screech in my ear is causing me to fade a little but I keep my stance. Just a little bit longer. Before he has time to recover, I spin around and land a kick to the other side of his face. I stumble forward as he stumbles back, pure shock written on his face.

He regains himself and takes a step forward to throw another punch, but I am quick to dodge it. Bucky always go to the right first when he is punching. It was safe to assume that the Winter Soldier would do the same. He takes a step forward, reading himself for a kick, but I drop to the ground quickly, kicking out my leg to push his right foot right from underneath him. Bucky also always steps forward with his right leg when he is about to do any sort of kick. I guess watching the team spar is advantageous after all.

I feel like I am about to puke because of the noise pounding through my head.

The Winter Soldier falls to the ground, and when he does, the device falls out of his hand and shatters on the ground. And then everything is silent.

Just the way that I like it.

The Winter Soldier doesn’t get a second to move before he is lying still as a statue on the ground. I can see the pain written on his face as I stand above him. My legs are wobbling and trying to think too hard makes me feel like I am going to pass out. But if I don’t get Bucky out of this before I pass out, I really am going to die.

“See. I knew that you were going off of Bucky’s assumptions that I didn’t know how to fight. Figured you would treat me like a child just like the rest of them,” I smile a bit at him and close my eyes, letting myself get lost in Bucky’s mind.

I find the memory, one where there is a man screaming Russian words over a loud speaker, and quickly pull it out of Bucky head. I watch Bucky’s eyes close for a second and then open again to stare up at me with those bright eyes.

“Y/N!” He screams as I let my hold of him go, watching as he scrambles to his feet and quickly grab me.

“Good to see you again, Buck,” I whisper and then everything goes black.

Taglist: 

@buckybarnesappreciationsociety @zestygingergirl

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Between the Shadow and the Soul - Hermione Granger x Draco Malfoy

Request: @cute-yet-dangerous could you write a fanfic where Hermione falls in love with Draco instead of Ron. You can choose the time-frame and the "ending" is up to you just like everything else ( though if you feel like it just a liiiitle bit of smut wouldn't be bad 😇) Thank you ❤

Warnings: My English, language. Gifs and pics aren't mine. Credits to their original owners. Also, I am very sorry if it’s not that great. 

A/N: Happy -early- Birthday, Ria. May your choices reflect your hopes, not your fears. Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself. Go forward and make your dreams come true.

Word Count ~2.6k+

MASTERLIST

Pending Requests

Falling in love was not rational. It was madness. A beautiful, wonderful moment of magnificent insanity. His sharp edges, somehow only made him softer in a way that she could never understand...not entirely. His broken heart only beat louder in the silence and it would be easier, to not love him if she didn’t know how bright his smile could be, if she didn’t know that his touch could be gentle... it would be easier, to not want to save him if she didn’t know how reassuring his words were, if she didn’t know that he’d sacrifice himself so she could live. One thing was for sure... It wouldn’t it make it easier for him, not to love her if she wasn't all those missing pieces that his soul was longing for.

She touched him and it was like war. The burning sensation in her bones overpowered her mind and her heart pounded like the drums that were calling soldiers to join, willingly, the bloodbath. It felt violent and visceral and she sensed some part of her was latching onto to his skin - a mark left on her for the stars to find when they would uncover their r sad, epic, poetic... mad story. He smiled at her and the stars became surpassed in what could bring her light. It was all teeth but there was a hint of joy in the way his mouth moved around her. The sun’s blaze turned to ash and she felt warm and wanted. She was living in the darkness until his grin found hers and from that moment, everything in her was created by his echoes.

Her voice became his compass, his true north. His voice was the one she could pick out in the middle of the crowd, in the middle of the battle because it was the map that led her home. The sound of his name coming off her lips was his anchor and without her voice, he would drown, down to the bottom of the endless ocean, and perhaps he deserved it but he was selfish and couldn't lose her too. Her eyes were dark enough to fall in. His eyes held the torment he had been through and she wished that she could heal his scars but she knew that she could only try to take away some of the ache. Her eyes would make the deities of the ancient world throw themselves into the pit to prevent any more loss. His eyes found hers and the colors of the universe seemed brighter, seemed softer, seemed more beautiful, seemed not enough to describe the flames that consumed them.

She loved him. That was what the pounding of her heart was singing. He loved her from this universe to the next one and the constellations would yearn to chart their story and the history books would place their names side by side and it will never be enough, because they loved each other and even after death, they would find their way back to each other's galaxies. It was all so brutally fake and honest at the same time. When she saw him for the very first time, she suddenly felt like the earth wasn't spinning on its axis but instead, somehow, he had conjured the stars and a whole new sky had replaced the old one. When he saw her, he began to question everything he was 'taught', every single socially constructed stereotype about her kind. What if things weren't just black or white? What if there were more?

But they clashed in a storm of fire and ice and it took them what seemed like a lifetime to realize that they had changed each other in a way that no one could ever suspect.

"You filthy little Mudblood" he hissed at her. She had grown used to it by now, but it still hurt her. Not because somebody was calling her that name - something that she would never hear in a civilized conversation - but because he was calling her that. The disappointment in her eyes cut him like a knife that kept twisting inside the wound. He, however, couldn't help it. It was the only wall that she hadn't managed to burn down to the ground. He had to appear cold, evil... pathetic as Potter had once called him. He was. He was so damn -

She kept her mouth shut but her eye spoke louder than any word could have. She didn't know what to think of him. She truly wanted to believe that somewhere within him, a better him was hidden. She had seen it - seen him being gentle and soft. Something extremely rare when it came to the Prince of Slytherin. 

The seasons succeeded one another in a constant, never-ending, cycle. He was growing all the more distant. She was growing all the more worried.

They say that love comes easy. It took breaking, sobbing in the middle of the night, screaming without muttering a word. It was painful yet beautifully chaotic, mesmerizing like the sky that made them think that they were just two more souls inside that vast and evergreen universe. It was an accidental meet under the velvet canvas and the magic of the Astronomy Tower. It was one night that changed destiny's path. It was that moment, where he saw her looking at him, not like she could save him, oh, no. She wasn't that much of a fool. She was aware that she couldn't save him, not like that. But she was able to recognize the shadows that were dancing on his skin, on his arm, the faint bruises and clenched fists and the ache inside his heart. And the world grew quiet as if it was giving this moment the weight it deserved. The moon was hidden behind dark clouds and the stars almost burnt out. And it was in the darkness that they realized they could change the universe. A single phrase made her head spin.

"I am sorry" he whispered. For the first time, he looked at her without removing his gaze. She wasn't prepared for anything like that. The next thing she knew was his hand tucking a loose strand behind her ear. What was happening?

"I get it. Just... be less your father and more...you. I think you are yet to discover how truly magnificent each person can be" she softly told him. She had found the courage to talk to him like that - or at all. He was a bit shocked but he smiled at her, melancholy spreading through her veins. It wasn't a happy smile. She had never seen him happy. She forgot to ask logic, instead listened to emotions and offered him her cup of tea. A mixture of black and green with caramel and almond which was always able to calm her down and keep her company through endless nights. He was never shown any kind of sympathy and he truly believed he didn't deserve it - especially from her. But he was grateful.

They sat there, in silence at first, staring at the almost fairytale-like sky. As soon as they started talking, things could never go back to black and white. And it wasn't until a certain potion that they started to realize what was truly going on. It was just... not expected. They kept meeting each other every other night, talking or not, drinking tea or not, staring at the sky or at each other. But not that night. He was angry. Furious. Mainly because he didn't want to feel the way he did. Every time he saw her, something inside him was dying but in a good - a very good- and a bad - very bad- way.

"Why are you pretending? You grew tired of being called mudblood and you felt sorry for me? What are you playing at?" he feverishly accused her before her eyes made him weak again. Her eyebrows shot to the sky.

"Excuse me? Where is this coming from?" she fired back. She hadn't heard him calling her that in a very long time and it felt so...bitter. He knew that he was lashing out and she had done nothing wrong. Just because he had a mission that the Dark Lord had assigned him... He had screwed up his entire life. She saw the change in his eyes. She understood that something wasn't quite alright but she had also figured him out. He would try to hide it.

"I'm sorry. I'll just go to bed. Goodnight" he stiffly informed her and ran off. Literally. 

It was probably the worst decision she had ever made. It was probably the one thing she did right in her entire life. She wasn't thinking as she walked towards the Slytherin's dormitories. She was fully aware that it was forbidden by not only the rules but herself as well. Yet, she did it anyway. Thankfully, the common room was empty and thanks to Lucius' cockiness, Draco had his own dorm. Right before she knocked his door, she froze. What on earth was she about to do? She wasn't this person. She didn't do things... spontaneously. She was organized and had plans and goals and ... she thought she had her life figured out. That whatever she had planned would work out exactly the way she had imagined. Draco, on the other hand... he showed her what different meant. How not possible to plan your life was. He made her question her existence and everything she was standing up for. He showed her that things may not always be what the seem to. With her heart pounding in her chest, she just opened the door and walked in, ignoring every single rule. "You’ve felt it, haven’t you? Those feelings that seem to get so big in your chest, like something is so beautiful it aches?" she asked him before he could even register her presence in his room. "Go away. Please" he murmured, not once looking at her. He knew that if she stayed a bit longer in the room, if her perfume mixed with the air for just a second more, things would get out of hand. He craved her in a way he never believed possible. He bushy hair, sparkly eyes, and that beautifully chaotic mind... made him feel things he... didn't even know existed.

"No" she firmly answered, standing her ground. She knew how he felt because she was experiencing the same. He wasn't able to think before acting upon his feelings. He got up from his bed and pinned her against the cold wall of his room, in a matter of seconds.

"I told you to leave" he threatened her but his voice latched on to her like satin. "And I told you, no" she deadpanned but it was a mere whisper. It was now or never. He just crushed his lips against hers and that moment all the voices in his head stopped talking. And Merlin, her taste was intoxicating him - a hint of chocolate mixed with tea. It started out as angry and heated kiss but it slowly became gentle and kind and... they both had poured their hearts into. He carefully swept her hair off her neck and she gave a sharp intake of breath at his unexpected kiss. She would be lying if she was to say she hadn't thought about that moment over and over again. There was an urgency to his kiss, making her feel wanted and utterly desirable. His hands roamed her body, starting at her neck, running down her back until he grabbed her hips and pulled them closer to him. The thought of what followed terrified her but also excited her, it made her go weak at the knees. Her heart was beating furiously now and so was his. He took a step back, looking at her with a burning question in his eyes.

"I have felt it. I feel it every time I think of you. And trust me, the thought of you... doesn't leave my mind" he spoke softly of things she craved to hear. He kissed her again, but this time it was gentler with the need and desire more evident. Her hands found their way and got lost in his hair, roamed his back and her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt but soon it just fell to the floor, revealing his pale and glorious torso. It came so naturally that it actually scared them but also made them realize how foolishly they had wasted so much time, hating each other. He took her hand and led her to his bed with soft and elegant moves. She wasn't even feeling awkward or anxious. She wanted this. With him. His mouth was everywhere, kissing her and undressing her at the same time. She was tracing patterns on his body when he slightly bit her behind her ear, making her question what was real and what was not. There was something else... She could actually breathe within the fire he had brought to her. He was a walking contradiction, a puzzle and she loved getting lost in a riddle. They just fell asleep afterwards, with her wrapped inside his arms. 

Things were not good. They hadn't even talked to each other. He ignored her and she put on her facade. Months passed them by. They had stopped visiting the Astronomy Tower. She thought that the stars stayed silent at their turning point because they didn't just want to watch them and witness their journey. No, they wanted to test infinity. Death Eaters and The Order. Good and Evil, supposedly. There were no good guys. They weren't able to break free from destiny. Not as fast as they would like. But what the stars hadn't quite understood was that loving each other had stopped being something that scared them. Therefore, the longing glances, the nights filled with tears and sorrow, the pain that became physical after a while. She had lost him to time and space, nearly to fate but he was going to grow as a fighter soon enough. He would come back to her. He felt it deep in his bones that their devotion to one another was greater than those of the fairytales because they were never guaranteed a happy ending, instead they had bent every galaxy to make that beautiful 'them' work out. But it didn't... Not yet. Lives were like lines. And some times, if people we're lucky enough, those line crossed paths. There, however, some exceptionally few... and their lines crossed paths over and over again. She always knew that in a crowd of thousands she would be able to meet his eyes and find you. He knew that the moment her name dropped from his lips, the story would begin again. They had to wait. Quite a while. They had to be tested by war and blood and other people. Just when they were both ready to give up, their lines crossed paths in the most unexpected way. No one was surprised in the slightest when Hermione decided to go back to Hogwarts... but everyone was left stunned by Draco's return.

Once their eyes met, their hearts were revived. Some emotions couldn't go away.

This time, the stars were in their favor. This time, they would be. No more wars and battles to fight, no more villains, no more heroes. Just them, picking up from where they had left off. Somewhere between the Shadow and the Soul. “Hermione...” his soft and shaky voice, his pained yet hopeful eyes, gave her purpose again. To live again. And be happy. 

“Draco”.

Tags: @orionsirivsblack @kapolisradomthoughts @nadinissavage @geeksareunique

[nooowestayandgetcaught]

Day 1: Words of Validation

screw it I’m gonna post my favorite comments from AO3 anyway

“So hot i may cry okay sthap writing smut so wonderfully its not okay (its v okay dont ever stop)” [x]

“What just happened. Childhood officially spoiled, but that's very okay because, /woah/.” [x]

“I have no shame any more. I'd watch this.” [x]

“You inspired me to keep writing more." [x] 

“This is just the kind of suppressed homoeroticism I love.” [x]

“I know this fic was posted a forever ago, but I loved it so much, I couldn't resist commenting. This is absolutely beautifully written. Those words just can't really describe how much I loved reading this. I am love with this entirely. <3″ [x]

“Um, excuse me, who gave you the right to make me feel emotions?” [x]

“hello yes I cried while I was reading this 10/10″ [x]

“I definitely prefer this over canon” [x]

“Beautifully written. You handle an array of racey topics very well, and I'm a huge fan of hurt/comfort stories. This read as a well thought out and executed storyline! Your work is very easy and enjoyable to read!” [x]

“Never thought I would read fic for this ship but I love it?????? This story is so beautiful and soft and these two boys are so cute!!! Great work!!!” [x]

“I know I've read this already on tumblr, but I can't remember whether I left a comment. And this deserves a comment.Wow, this was beautiful. Tragic and poetic, and slightly unreal (if that even makes sense) but somehow fitting perfectly into the universe of the show. The voices are spot on, but you still manage to maintain the supernatural atmosphere. It's just incredibly gorgeous and should have way more kudos and comments than it does. It's Romantic in the literary sense, if you know what I mean.” [x]  

“Your writing. Your writing. I don't know if I want to cry or laugh because I love it so much. I have never once even thought of this pairing let alone shipped it, yet this is now one of my favorite fics just because you wrote it so well.” [x]

“My friends yell at me for shipping this and yet here I am again.” [x]

“How do you constantly make sex so endearing and adorable? This was heartwarming--you could honestly feel the love between these two. Just amazing, like all your work.” [x]

“I hate mpreg. Or I thought I did till I read this. You are amazi g” [x]

“You are a god. I've been reading your entire series here and I've loved every. Single. One. A lot. You just do such a fantastic job. This story is no exception. You always give me exactly what I was looking for and half the time I didn't know I wanted it. Plus your writing is great. It has such a warm, enticing voice. I'm just fangirling about it all. Thank you!!” [x]

“I liked this quite a lot, especially your writing style was very beautiful in my opinion. Somehow a bit melancholic, which I wasn't expecting but nevertheless found lovely. Thoughtful, deliberate wording, poetic sentences, not too fast pacing. It'd be easy to take the comic route with sex pollen, but that isn't the case here. Sure, there's humour and warmth, it's not like this is a tragedy or even remotely sad, but still the story wasn't comedy either. That, I think, is mainly thanks to your writing style. Lovely, beautiful story.” [x]

“You know those fics where you hang onto every little word and detail? This is one of them.” [x]

“hhhhhhng. I think you broke me.” [x]

“YOU thanks this is my worst kind of favorite story my heart is gonna hurt for like six years thanks bye world lmaoThat was awesomely written and also how dare you you monster my heart is shriveling and I'm sad but like well done my dude at least I'll die knowing skysolo is my killerI'm so conflicted bc I kind of want to strangle you but also I want to be sure you know that I mean it in a complementary way. The tragic love hate relationship that fandom has with paingst writers, oh my!D'x I'm gonna go read fluff or die, nice job man” [x]

“wow.. this was.. very different than i expected.. but it was good.. a really unique concept.. ive never read a fic like this before” [x]

“Okay, this is how the Maze Runner should've originally been written. You are the author now. Fuck James Dashner lol thank you for writing this! This is amazing! Your storyline makes much more sense! Excellent job(:” [x]

“So typically I don't like short fanfics. But this is just so amazing. You have managed to capture so much in so little words. It is impressive how good this is, but so short. Absolutely adore it. Amazing job.” [x]

“I don't know why but somehow, my chest twisted and constricted within me as I read this. It felt like I couldn't breathe but I WAS breathing, it was just kind of... difficult to, I guess. What I'm trying to say is that this whole thing, every word, is so beautifully sad that by my eyes alone I felt physically affected.You're amazing” [x]

“I just read the shit out of this entire series. Like maddening, addicted, speed-reading until the midnight hours by iphone light.Words cannot express how dope this whole collection of words was. So intricate and intriguing and well-written. I literally had to force myself to stop and sleep, eat, be a responsible adult.” [x]

“this fic singlehandedly cleared my skin, saved the bees, stopped global warming, and elected bernie sanders president” [x]

“This was short and sweet and to the point, but goddamn, it was perfect. I am really the kind of person who ships everything and this is one of my not-so-guilty pleasures.You've got a fluid and catchy style and I won't lie, that packed a hell of a punch for under 1,000 words.Really nice!“ [x]

“i rarely blush when I read smut these days but this had something and wow just wow xx” [x] 

“your creativity just astonishes me, i can see the character in technicolor and you are writing in black and white” [x]

“I don't know who told you not to write this but I want them to tell you not to write many things. Because your spite-porn is super hot.” [x]

“honestly this is the most in character fic i've ever read? it's amazing i lovE IT!!!” [x]

“Everytime I reach the end of this marvelous fic I have to re-read it because it's so good and i want more but there isn't more so i go back to the start and it keeps getting better and do you know what this does to me? I am stuck in this infinite loop and i blame you” [x]

“ EVERYTHING YOU WRITE IS PERFECT AND MAGICAL AND GOOD. KTHNXBYE.” [x]

@ficwritersweek