#its been more than half my life of loving this band and now i can never experience them

[night-dragon937]

gods listening to music of artists that i've gone and seen in concert/at raves and just like. reliving the euphoria of the moment when i was there at the live performance like. obviously sitting at my desk with my headphones is not the same as being at a rave or concert but i can kind of capture some of the memory and those good feels are just smth else

[analogboii]

once again thinking about the fact i could possibly never see ben bruce live and getting emotional about it

[gaysindistress]

Things that I feel like would happen when you’re in a relationship with Simon Riley.

Simon Riley masterlist

1. First off he hates the word ‘boyfriend’.

Maybe it’s because he’s in his mid thirties or something but he can’t stand being called your boyfriend. He’s more than that but also not at the same time. You live together, have access to each other’s bank accounts (which is only because he hates it when you try to fight him about him giving you money), and you’re each others emergency contact. He thinks of himself as your husband. The man wears a silicone ring when he’s home and a necklace with the ring that’s totally not a wedding band when he’s working. Price has seen the chain once or twice and smirks, shooting him a knowing look but never says a word.

Simon cannot stand it when people get nosy and want to know what your relationship status is. You’re together and that’s all that matters. No one needs to know that you’re the beneficiary of his will and life insurance policy or that he’s put you on all of his accounts. No one needs to know that he buys you anything you want but has only ever bought you two rings; a thin gold band with a flower engraved on it and its twin a matching emerald ring. No one needs to know that when he gifted them to you, there were tears and promises of safety, love, and happiness whispered against feverish skin. No one needs to know that he has your name woven into his chest tattoo.

No one needs to know any of that because your relationship is between him and you only.

2. You are not some submissive little house wife. You are a strong independent woman and he prefers it that way.

I know this one goes against what most people say but hear me out on this. Simon has been independent since birth practically. He’s only had himself to count on for years. Even in the military, he’s only been able to rely himself. Sure the others watch out for him but if it came down to it, he’s the only one who’s going to get himself out alive.

The thought of someone else relying on him in that way is terrifying. He can’t even fathom what it would be like to look at another person and fully trust them in that way. Half the time he feels like he can’t even be trusted to take care of himself let alone another human. In theory a sweet docile housewife is great with the meals and clean house but not for him. He needs to know that you can hold your own. He needs to know that you can be independent and carry on without him if something happened while he was working. He needs to know that you will be okay if he doesn’t come back.

You have to be okay without him no matter how much it pains him to think about it.

Like I said before, he’s made you the beneficiary of everything so he knows you’ll be set financially but that’s not enough. He’s made Price promise to keep an eye out for you. He’s made you promise to let Price do that and you agreed because it’s Simon who’s asking but you’d tell anyone else to fuck off.

In addition to all of that, he’s installed the best security system the government has to offer in your house. You have a very expensive and large safe in your shared closet that he’s instructed you to only open if you feel unsafe. While you might not like it, you agree to go shooting with him so he can sleep at night knowing that you could protect yourself if he’s not home. He’s gone as far as to make sure you have all of the licenses and certificates that are needed to legally own firearms in the UK.

He’s not leaving any opportunity for you to be vulnerable or have your ‘safety checks’, as he calls them, taken away.

3. Simon Riley is a godless man…until he meets you.

Now this is entirely my own headcannon with no evidence to support it so bear with me.

Simon had a shitty childhood where his mom would pray to a god who never listened and his dad would shout verses at him when he was drunk. God was a mythical figure that he was told stories off with nothing to show for it. He did believe at one point but then his dad never got better, his mom wore bruises of every shade, and his brother found comfort in drugs.

He found himself praying when he was being tortured by the Mexican cartel. Between the flashbacks of his abusive past, he prayed to a god who had failed him so many times before to help him. He prayed again as he dug himself out of that Texas grave with the major’s jaw bone. He wailed his prayers when he found his family executed after Sparks tried to kill him.

After that he deemed himself a Godless man. Years of praying had passed with nothing. This god had decided that Simon was not worthy of a miracle so why would he continue to worship him?

That was until he met you. He finds himself praying before every mission, every time he has to leave you, every time he’s on his way home, and just about any other time he thinks of you. He doesn’t know what exactly he’s praying for other than for you to be there when he gets back.

He whispers his prayers to an absent god against your skin as he worships your body, soul, and heart. He promises to be devoted to you until his last breath and vows to find you again in whatever afterlife awaits you. He pledges to find solace in you and only you when his haunting nightmares return. He makes an oath to your heart that it will never weather another storm alone again for his will take whatever beating that comes your way. He shows you that he will love you in the same manner as a Hozier song; putting you above all else because you have become his religion, his faith, his beliefs, his life.

You have become all that he is and he thanks the god he once believed in for you. He prays again but to you, his heart, his love, and his beacon through the enteral storm of life.

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Whatever My Wife Wants

Summary: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Word Count: 4.5K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also its your honeymoon so who am I to say), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, literally the biggest, fattest, ugliest breeding kink (I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not), marriage kink (?) creampie, cum play, kind of exhibitionism (like if you SQUINT), talks of starting a family, Javi LOVES his wife, Javi in a CHAIN, Javi on his honeymoon deserves its own warning, did I mention that Javi LOVES his wife?!

A/N: shoutout to my sweet @honeyedmiller for this request after reblogging this MASTERPIECE from @enstatia. It's supposed to be a painting of Din, but it gave me such big Javi vibes, and I really haven't been the same since picturing the one and only Javier Peña in a chain (bc If i can't unsee it, you shouldn't be allowed to either) 😵‍💫 Also shoutout to Lucien Flores for singlehandedly ruining my life today with that new clip from the Uninvited (but also you can't tell me that this outfit is so Javi on the beach coded PHEW)

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

Javi had never been one for jewelry- well, that was until a few days ago when a new golden wedding band had made a home on his hand. Since you had slipped it on his finger, Javi couldn’t get enough of watching it glisten in the warm, tropical sunlight on your honeymoon, a reminder that filled his heart to the brim to know that he was yours forever. 

Javi’s new wedding ring was the only jewelry that he had ever pictured himself wearing, until you had mentioned to him in passing while shopping for new clothes for your honeymoon how good he’d look with a chain to go with any of his outfits he had planned for the trip- considering there was no way Javi was going to have no less than 4 buttons undone on his shirt at any given time while basking in the tropical warmth of your honeymoon paradise. 

Later on that week, he had dug around in his dresser to find a thin, golden chain necklace he had back from his time in college, that hadn’t seen the light of day in too many years to count. But, given your enthusiasm for the idea of him wearing something like it, Javi had decided to pack it with him in his suitcase to surprise when the time felt right. 

Well, after being a few drinks deep at the pool bar from earlier, Javi’s slightly tipsy confidence had him feeling like now was the perfect time to try out his new accessory to see what you thought. Digging through his suitcase, he pulled out out the chain to go with the rest of his outfit for your dinner on the beach, clipping the necklace around his neck as he looked himself over in the mirror, quickly fixing his hair and adjusting his shirt, undoing one more button than probably necessary to show off his new look. 

And while he could admit that he didn’t look half bad with it on, and figured you’d like the new surprise addition to his wardrobe, there’d be no way in hell he could have ever prepared himself for the viscerally awestruck reaction you’d have to the thin, gold chain dangling around his neck.  

“I can practically feel you burning a hole through my chest, Hermosa.” Javi chuckled, raising an eyebrow at you as he took another bite of his food, giving you a playful smirk at the way you had been ogling at him ever since you had noticed the thin gold chain resting across his tanned skin as you began your walk through the hotel to head to dinner. 

“Oh shut up, it’s not my fault you’re so hot. You’re making it very hard not to look, in my defense.” You sighed, trying to get yourself to focus on your food instead of staring at Javi for the rest of dinner, despite the fact that the only meal you had your eyes on was sitting across the table from you. “There’s already something about you being my husband that makes you somehow even hotter than you already were, and now with this?” You picked up your fork, gesturing to the chain dangling between the parted fabric of Javi’s shirt, “I think you may be trying to legitimately kill me.” 

“Figured you’d like it. Didn’t think you’d like it this much.” Javi smirked, biting down on his lip before taking another bite of food, his cheeks growing flushed and warm as he looked at you admiring him, wondering how in the hell he had gotten so goddamn lucky. “Thanks, Mrs. Peña.” He laughed, taking another bite of his food, shooting you a quick wink. 

Mrs. Peña. 

God, if that alone wasn’t enough to send you over the edge already, your new last name, combined with the incredibly attractive man you had gotten it from that you now got to call your husband? On top of that stupidly hot chain he had decided to throw on with his outfit? There was definitely something else you were hungry for other than the half cleared plate below you. 

It was then that you couldn’t have been happier you had been seated at a table on the edge of the beachside boardwalk, tucked behind a few stray palm trees, secluded enough out of view that you had no problem reaching under the table to rest your hand on Javi’s knee, toying with the hem of his shorts before letting your fingers creep further and further up his thigh. 

“Are you almost done with your food?” You asked, your voice sweet and sultry as your hand brushing against Javi’s crotch immediately caught his attention, making his eyes go wide as he sat up straight, setting down his knife and fork to look down in his lap. “Because if you are, I can think of something else I want for dessert when we go back to our room. Something I want really bad. You wanna feel how badly I want it?” 

Javi swallowed hard as your fingers wrapped more firmly around his bulge, gently massaging his dick in your grasp, before grabbing his hand and guiding it to brush along the slit of your sundress and closer to your core, aching and dripping with arousal. Letting his fingers creep up the inside of your thighs and ghost over your folds, his eyes went even wider, jaw practically dropping open to feel that you were not only absolutely soaked, but also not wearing any underwear at all. Using every ounce of composure he had to keep from falling apart right then and there at the dinner table, letting out a deep sigh as he cursed under his breath. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck, baby… Yeah, I can be done right now.” He groaned, nodding at your proposition before wrapping his hand around the meat of your thigh as he took a long inhale, staring you down with darkening eyes and a devilish grin across the table. 

Never had you been more thankful that the resort you had picked to stay at was all inclusive, because if either of you had to wait a minute longer for a server to get your bill so you could get back up to your room, the probability of impending implosion would have been practically inevitable. 

Firmly intertwining your fingers with his as  you grabbed his hand, you were nearly dragging Javi through the hotel to the nearest bay of elevators, pleasantly shocked to find no one else waiting with you to travel up to their room, leaving the two of you alone to catch the next elevator back up to your floor. 

Without a word, the second the elevator doors had closed, the two of you were on top of each other, a messy dance of tongue and teeth crashing together, Javi’s hands palming the meat of your ass over your dress while yours roamed over his chest, tracing the freckles of his tanned skin up to the golden chain dangling in the open buttons of his shirt, stopping to wrap the necklace around your finger, tugging Javi closer to you. 

“Fuck, you look so good with this on, baby.” You moaned, your words hot against Javi’s skin as you nipped at his neck, chain still tangled in your grasp. “I can’t wait to fu-”

Barely aware of the fact that you had reached your floor, the ding of the elevator was enough to catch your attention and cut you off from completing the rest of your thought before the doors slid open, revealing a group of couples waiting for their ride down to the lobby. Frantically trying to play off the fact that if the elevator ride had gone any longer, you two definitely would have been seconds away from fucking in it, you gulped, giving Javi a nudge to his ribs to bring him back to reality, the two of you quickly trying to slide past the other guests without making a scene. 

As the door closed behind you, you and Javi couldn’t help but giggle at the fact that you couldn’t seem to take an elevator trip alone without almost being caught making out like a pair of horny teenagers (which, to be fair, a pair of horny teenagers probably would have had more self control than the two of you being newlyweds on your honeymoon). 

With your room only being a few doors down from the elevator, Javi began fumbling in the pocket of his shorts for his room key, working around the full hard on he already had under the fabric from how pent up he was. Quietly cursing under his breath until he found it, as soon as the card was swiping over the lock of the door, Javi was yanking you through into your room, instantly beginning to pull down the zipper to the back of your dress as you fumbled your way back to the bed. 

Your dress fell to the floor in a crumpled pile before Javi was tossing you onto the mattress, shocked to see that you also hadn’t even bothered to put on a bra, revealing your glowing skin and obnoxious tanlines from your time spent out in the sun. 

“Dirty fucking girl, not wearing anything underneath that dress for me. Fuck me, Hermosa. God, you’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect. My perfect wife.” Javi growled, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed to part your legs, draping them over his shoulders as he admired the wet mess between your thighs, your slick already coating your folds, glistening in the dim light of your hotel room. “My perfect wife and her perfect fucking pussy already so wet for me. 

Dragging his fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal as he ghosted over your throbbing clit, you let out a soft whimper in protest, sitting up on your elbows to look down at Javi, peppering kisses along the soft skin of your thighs. 

“Javi, fuck- Baby, I wanted to go down on you. You look so good, I-I wanna taste you, Jav, p-please.” You moaned, your argument becoming less and less convincing as his kisses traveled to your center, nose brushing against your aching bundle of nerves before looking up at you with a lustful smirk, tightening his grip around your hips to hold you in place. 

Javi shook his head as he laughed quietly to himself, watching you squirm and buck your hips towards his face, so desperately worked up and aching that the mess between your legs was really beginning to contradict your need to get Javi off before yourself. 

“Cariño…” Javi tutted, almost mockingly, digging his fingertips deeper into the meat of your flesh, “You’re not going anywhere ‘till I get a taste. I can’t leave my poor wife all worked up like this, can I?” 

Before you had a chance to respond, the flat of Javi’s tongue was dragging through your heat in a long, broad stroke, firmly pressing against your clit, looking up at you with a satisfied grin as you threw your head back in pleasure, a soft whimper escaping from your parted lips. As the last of his lick slid through your folds, you shuttered at the feeling of the metal of his chain ghosting over your cunt as it dangled from his neck, only to cry out as you could feel the other piece of jewelry he was wearing on his left ring finger sink deep into your entrance. 

“Oh f-fuck-” You whimpered as another finger breached your tight hole, already sucking him in with your warm, wet walls while his digits curled, bumping against the sweet spot inside you that he knew made you crumble. 

“That’s it, baby girl.” He cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt before diving back between your legs like a man starved, his tongue dancing in a swirling pattern of flicks and strokes between your folds as he lapped you up. You could feel yourself rolling your hips against his hand, whining at how thick and full he felt inside you, even more so now with the wedding band that had made its permanent home on his finger, taking every chance he could get to watch you cover the glistening gold ring in your arousal as yet another way to prove that you were his. 

Javi could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his fingers as your bottom half squirmed against the sheets of the bed, the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, tingling building at the base of your spine. Latching his lips around your clit, he began to suck at your sensitive nub, his hand thrusting faster and deeper into your cunt, feeling you slowly coming undone under his touch. 

“Oh shit- fuck, fuck, Javi, I’m so close baby, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonnaaahhhhhh-” Just like that, you were falling over the brink of collapse, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, pleasure flowing through every inch of your veins as you met your high, feeling the smirk of Javi’s smile pressed against your cunt as you soaked his face, his free hand wrapped around your hip, holding you in place for him. 

“Fuck, I swear, I’ll never fucking get over that.” Javi mewled, pulling back enough to sit on his heels, admiring the wet and puffy mess your pussy had become, gently pulling his fingers out of your heat, looking down at the way your arousal coated his fingers, covering his wedding band. “Fucking soaked me, Hermosa. You like feeling my ring when I touch you like that, baby? Knowing I’m all yours forever?” 

With your chest heaving in heavy breaths, you nodded frantically, blissed out look plastered across your face as you stared up at Javi, lust pooling in the dark brown of his eyes as he brought his soaked fingers to your mouth, tugging at your bottom lip as, opening your mouth for you to suck him clean, the warm and tangy taste of you still fresh on his skin. 

“You taste so fucking sweet, baby. Mi esposa sabes muy dulce.” (My wife tastes so sweet) Javi cooed, gently tugging his fingers out of your mouth, standing up to lean over the bed, caging your body under his as his lips crashed against yours in a needy mess of longing and desperation. 

You could feel how painfully hard he was through the fabric of his shorts, his bulge straining against the seams of his zipper as he rubbed against your thigh, laying on top of you with one arm propped up beside your head, the other gently cupping your face, thumb rubbing back and forth along your cheek as he kissed you with the tender intensity that set your insides ablaze with desire, longing, no, needing to feel him buried deep inside you as you screamed his name. 

It really had been your intention to suck Javi off the moment you had gotten back to your room, to drop to your knees and worship the beautifully handsome man you now got to call your husband and turn him into the same type of moaning, whimpering mess that he had just made you, but with the ferocity of each kiss and the instinctual jerk of Javi’s hips, there was nothing you wanted more than to be filled by the sweet sting of his cock pounding into you, over and over.  

“J-Javi, fuck- I need to feel you baby, please. Fuck, I wanna feel you so deep inside me.” You whispered, your teeth tugging at Javi’s earlobe as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses, feeling the audible groan in his chest at your request, followed by a deep sigh as he tried to compose himself from the mess he was already becoming. 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, sweet girl? Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets.” He rasped, a devilish grin spread between his cheeks as he sat back to pull his shirt over his head, followed by his shorts and boxers, leaving him in nothing but the gold chain still dangling around his neck as he reached down to stroke his cock, red and dripping with precum before leaning back down to line up with your entrance. 

You could feel your breath hitch as his tip brushed through your folds, rubbing gently against your clit as he collected your arousal to coat his length, looking down to watch as his length sunk deep into your cunt, the both of you letting out ragged moans at the sensation. 

Javi paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the sweet sting of his stretch as he filled you, his tip kissing your cervix while his hips met yours. The fullness made your brain go blank, completely at a loss for words as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you, pulling himself out enough to sink his whole length back into your cunt, each thrust making you whimper and moan, desperate for more. 

“F-fuck, give me more, baby, you feel so good.” You whined, your hand wrapping around his bicep, fingertips digging into his flexing muscles. 

“Yeah? You want more, Hermosa?” Javi mewled, smirking to himself at the blissed out mess you were already becoming as the pace of his hips rutting into you began to quicken. 

As each thrust became faster, the gold chain draped around his neck began to bounce against his chest, his body close enough to yours to feel the cool metal brush against your face with each snap of his hips into yours, the sight of his necklace dangling over you as you stared up at the furrowed and focused look painting his face. The image alone of him wearing that chain was enough to make you feel like you were going to cum on the spot, but as you lay caged beneath the weight of his broad body, feeling nothing but his warm skin and chain rub against you, you were nearly convinced it was going to be over for you right then and there. 

Without even thinking, you lifted your head up off the bed just enough to grab the chain between your teeth, tugging him closer to you, the sudden yank making his eyes go wide in surprise as the two of you came nose to nose, foreheads brushing against each other before his lips were on yours again, entangling you in an all consuming kiss without faltering in his pace. 

“Fuck, you look so good.” You moaned, your lips parting just enough from his to whisper your praises into his ear. “You look so hot with this fucking chain, Jesus Christ.” 

Your comment had a low, breathy laugh escaping from his chest, shaking his head to himself almost in disbelief at how enthralled you were with him. 

“Me? Baby girl, you have no idea.” He cooed, slowing his thrusts to sit back on his haunches, readjusting you to bring your knees pressed to your chest, leaning back down, running his hands along your body, up your arms until he had them above your head, pinned down to the bed in his grasp. “You know how many guys I’ve seen staring at you since we’ve been here? How many dirty fucking looks I’ve had to give them? Maybe this ring on your finger isn’t enough, mi amor.” 

“W-what do you, fuck- what do mean?” You whimpered, the new position opening you up in a way that had you feeling every inch of Javi as he sank his cock even deeper into your cunt, splitting you open in the most delicious way possible, your brain barely working enough to let your words escape from your mouth. 

“I mean,” Javi groaned, tightening his grip to hold you in place, his eyes growing darker with desire with another deep, long thrust into your heat, “That maybe, I need to fuck a baby into, Osita. Fuck a baby into my beautiful fucking wife, and let everyone see that you’re mine with our kid growing inside you.” 

Javi’s words sent a shiver down your spine, the thought alone making you whimper- You and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever, and now that you were finally married and had agreed that your birth control wasn’t going to be a part of your packing list, the prospect that in 9 months from now, you could have a third member to your family? That was enough to have you close to finishing right then and there. 

 A gulp traveling down your throat before a long exhale, trying to find the words to respond to his proposition, your voice trembling in an anxious excitement. 

“F-fuck- Oh my god, yes. Fuck a baby into me, Javi. Let me, oh shit- let me make you a daddy.” 

“Jesus Fucking Christ…” Javi groaned, gritting his teeth, trying his best to maintain his own composure, taking a long exhale before his gaze met yours again, a fierce kind of determination and promise pooling in the deep chocolate brown of his eyes, leaning his body on top of yours, pushing your knees closer to your chest, opening you up to an even deeper angle as his mouth crashed into yours, beginning to pick up his pace once again as his hips snapped into yours. “That’s what  you want, Hermosa? Fuck, I’ll give it to you, baby. Oh shit- Whatever my wife wants, my wife gets, remember? You want a baby? Fuck- I’ll fuck myself so deep inside you I’ll fuck a baby into you right now.” 

You could feel the all too familiar tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine once again, Javi’s cock pounding perfectly into your g-spot over and over again, the hairs at the base of his length grinding against your throbbing clit, sending you to the brink of collapse with each thrust in and out of your cunt. 

“Yes, oh my god- yes, I w-want it so bad. P-please, baby, fuck.” You whined, starting to stumble over your words as you could feel your pussy beginning to flutter around his cock, the coil in your core tightening to the point of nearly snapping. 

“Fuck- say it again. Tell me- mierda- tell me how badly you want it.” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming slopier and more desperate as he could feel himself on the verge of chasing his own high, knowing all too well you were almost hitting yours.  

“I want you to fill me up, Javi. Fuck, fuck, fuck- I want it so bad. I want you to knock me up and give me a baby, please, baby, oh my god- please.” You were all but panting at this point, your legs starting to tremble as your cunt clenched tighter and tighter around Javi’s cock, the overwhelming sensation of his fullness, promise of pregnancy, and that damn chain dangling in your face was enough to finally send you over the edge. “Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuckfuckfuck, I’m so close baby, I’m gonna, oh shit- I’m gonna cu-ahhhhhhh.” 

Those were the last words you were able to muster before you were screaming out Javi’s name as you came, euphoria and ecstasy radiating through every inch of your body, your orgasm crashing through you with so much intensity you could have sworn you were seeing stars. 

Watching you fall apart beneath him, soaking his cock in your arousal as you came had Javi only moments behind you, the rhythm of his hips beginning to stutter, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against each others combined with your wanton moans and whimpers and curses under your breath making him begin to babble incoherently. 

“That’s it, Osita. That’s my good girl. Fucking soak my cock, baby. Cum all over me before I, fuck me- fuck myself so deep in you it’ll fucking take. Holy fuck- Fuck, I’m gonna cum too. Gonna fucking fill you up. Give you all of me. Fuck, I’ll give you everyting, baby, mierda- everything you’ll ever wa-ahhhhhh” 

With one last final thrust, Javi was spilling deep inside you, warm ropes of his spend coating your walls, milking himself of every single last drop before collapsing on top of you, the warmth and weight and of his body sinking on top of your chest as the two you sighed in sync, trying to catch your breath with long, labored huffs. 

As Javi felt himself begin to soften, a groan rumbled low in his chest while he pulled out, feeling the mix of your spend dripping out your hole, coating the inside of your thighs in glistening juices. You let out an involuntary whimper at the loss of fullness inside you, your head falling back on the mattress in blissed out satisfaction, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bring yourself back to reality after floating away in post-colotial bliss. 

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, lifting your head back up to see Javi sitting back on his heels, admiring the mess of the two of you pooling between your legs. 

“So fucking pretty, Hermosa.” He mewled, peppering kisses down the soft skin of your thighs, making his way back towards your core. Before you could even realize what was happening, Javi’s head was back between your legs, one broad stroke of his tongue collecting the tangy, salty mixture leaking out of your cunt and lapping it back into your entrance quickly replacing his mouth with his fingers to push the mixture of your spend even further into you. 

Looking up at you, slick covering his mustache and smug grin spread between his cheeks, Javi curled his fingers just enough to make you yelp as he pressed against your g-spot, considering how worked up and overstimulated you already were. 

“Gotta make sure I keep you full of me, baby. Can’t let anything go to waste.” Javi smirked, gently pulling out his fingers, resting his hands on your thighs, drawing soft circles on your skin with his thumbs. 

You tried to sit back up, propping yourself on your elbows before Javi’s body was caging over you once again, slowly lowering himself down until your back was flat against the bed, cradling your jaw as guided you down with soft, slow kisses, feeling his chain brush against your chin he pulled away from your lips. 

“You’re not going anywhere, Momma. My wife wants a baby? Then I’m doing everything I can to give her one. Whatever she wants.” Javi smirked, pressing a tender kiss onto your forehead as his hand caressed your face, brushing your skin just gently enough to tickle you, a little giggle escaping from your lips as your eyes met his sweet puppy dog ones. 

“You’re ridiculous, you menace.” You laughed, playfully nudging Javi as he rolled over next to you on the side of the bed, wrapping his arm around you, tugging you to lay against his bare chest, your hand draping over his stomach before crawling up his chest, wrapping his gold chain around your fingers. “Hmmmm whatever your wife wants, huh?” You smirked, looking up at him with a mischievous grin. 

“Whatever she wants, Hermosa.”

“Your wife wants you to never take this damn thing off again.” 

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr @amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild @copperhalfcent @pedr0swh0r3

[postmodernbeliever]

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

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you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down. 

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil. 

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other. 

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts. 

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon. 

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it. 

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile. 

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes. 

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!” 

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic. 

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen. 

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive. 

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?” 

“your sink is leaking.” 

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts. 

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them. 

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?” 

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?” 

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer. 

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.” 

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?” 

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine. 

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.” 

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?” 

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath. 

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time. 

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?” 

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured. 

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing. 

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation. 

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away. 

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool. 

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.” 

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck. 

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.  

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?” 

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,” 

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,” 

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you? 

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor. 

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.” 

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you. 

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,” 

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job. 

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance. 

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good. 

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life. 

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did. 

“okay, baby, okay.” 

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast. 

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over. 

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life. 

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze. 

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,” 

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once. 

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,��

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…” 

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out. 

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?” 

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it. 

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?” 

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss. 

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.” 

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you. 

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked. 

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science. 

“can you hear me, sweetheart?” 

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?” 

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered. 

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe. 

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?” 

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.” 

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling. 

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.  

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?” 

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second. 

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.” 

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular. 

“coming back to me, hm?” 

“yeah,” you giggled. 

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.” 

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised. 

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just…  agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Hi! Can you please write part 3 of bale batman x assistant reader as his wife? And how he handles jealousy after their marriage? Thank you 😊

Hello!!

I actually wrote something about this a little while ago, but because I feel like just linking the post is a bit of an asshole move, I'll add some of my thoughts!

I hope that's okay <3

Here's my previous post :)

~Fi 🐝

(My inspiration for Bruce has been dwindling, I desperately need to watch the movies again)

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ♡

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

He will always, ALWAYS call you his wife. More than your actual name. He has to keep reminding people that you're unavailable and that you're his and his alone. Bruce perks up immediately whenever your name is mentioned. He's policing all of his employees at this point lmao

maybe someone talks about you to a coworker about how innovative you're thinking for the company is, that you're kind and exactly what this industry needs and Bruce just pops up out of nowhere like "who are you talking about? Hm? Oh, my beautiful, amazing, perfect wife? I couldn't agree more."

He gets so stealthy after being in the batman business that he scares them half to death because he's just there all of a sudden. After hearing some of the complaints the employees make (you're not at work as often anymore after Bruce insisted you focus on some hobbies instead) you're seriously contemplating putting a little bell on him just so you don't have to worry about anyone getting a heart attack.

He always has to be touching you in some kind of way. His go to is a hand on the small of your back or on your thigh when you're sitting down, he loves holding your hand, too. His thumb will brush over the cool metal of your wedding band and it puts his mind at ease.

Every single employee knows not to flirt with you, even as a joke. Not after Jake suddenly disappeared after Bruce caught him sweet talking you... (he may have a received a strongly worded letter from his landlord ((Bruce)) and, what do you know, for some reason, any other living opportunity in Gotham is unavailable right now)

He brings you flowers at least once a week (or until the ones he gifted you before can't hold their own anymore and wilt). They're always fragrant and bright in color, whatever is in season right now. And they stand nicely on your desk in a beautiful crystal vase that catches the light perfectly. He catches himself looking at them more than he he would like to admit.

Or, more specifically, he wants to see if he can catch you admiring them. He's gotten a new appreciation for these small things since you came into his life. They way you cup the delicate blossom and inhale its sweet scent is a picture he will dream of forever.

Bruce makes sure that you're only addressed as Mrs. Wayne (unless it's someone close like Luscius or a very nice coworker of yours) making it clear to everyone, again, that you're his. He gifts you a necklace with his name on it, which you wear proudly, and Bruce can't help but grin when he sees his name glint in the sunlight against your skin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I'm so sorry for kinda half-assing my Bruce posts lately, but I can barely write anymore 😭

I usually write at night but I'm tired then too so I'm like "Oh, I'll just write during the day." BUT GUESS WHAT I'M ALSO TIRED DURING THE DAY

Fucking iron deficiency istg

I basically sleep all the time and when I do write, it's not a lot bc I'm literally falling sleep halfway through so yeah

[sunboki]

— BRIGHTER PLACES. (TEASER) a Lee Felix fiction

Chef! Lee Felix x gn. reader

TROPE. cooking class au, childhood friends to lovers, reader is burnt out and slightly depressed, coincidences, fluff, angst

WARNINGS. mentions of depression/depressive episodes, mentions of unrequited love, burn out

AUG'S NOTES. yes this fic is out of the blue (when aren’t my fics out of the blue??) but UGH does this piece really tax my emotions and i love it a billion for it — i need felix as my therapist for a day.. tell me what you think of the teaser!

SYNOPSIS. Thrown asunder beneath crushing assignments, work, and the fleeting hope your “young and free” twenties experience may someday happen, you had yet to realize said experience was right around the corner. Whisked into a mixture of unearthed feelings and past occurrences, presented with a cherry on top by renowned Chef Lee Felix.

or alternatively :

Eventually, the sun will shine again.

Out of any gift you’ve received, you thought the treehouse in your backyard was the most memorable. It seemed like, in this vast universe, everything was right.

Then it wasn’t, then it was. Again and again. A repetitive cycle.

However, your overcast days did have an expiration date, and sunshine would eventually show itself again.

You just weren’t aware yet.

.

.

.

At seven years old, you would spend hours daydreaming, inviting friends, taking naps, and reading in your treehouse. Oftentimes, during the long days of summer, you’d eat lunch up there; lost in this secluded world only you knew about.

When you’re younger, every little thing appears peach-tinted.

The warm fire of a candle on a nightstand, setting dull objects ablaze with its brightness. Shadow puppets, dance parties. So ordinary yet exceptional all the same. Easy to configure from a developing mind as something excellent, fantastical.

Your twenties don’t envelop a hazy glow. Mind now hardened, treehouse still lingering (more like rotting) in the backyard of your parents house, things are more serious, less inviting.

Who knew adulthood would be this lonesome.

Walking from a bar, you fail to appreciate the hum of music from a buzzed radio, the wafting smell of Italian food hidden somewhere in the midst of neon signs and outdoor eateries.

Instead, priorities had lodged themselves indefinitely far into your soul, drowning out the voice telling you you’re you, not the expectations you’re held to.

Further and further did you drift into that intoxicating headspace, until someone—or, in your case, something—had to pull you out.

That something being a cooking—well, baking class. This weekend, an hour and a half. Menu: The Ideal Donuts.

“Think of it as a release,” Sana had told you, this wide, excited smile etching the skin of her face.

Immediately, you wanted to hand it back to her, tell the eccentric best friend of yours to spend such an occasion on herself instead.

Yet, you knew better than to try negotiating with Sana, the girl who has been present through your ugliest moments, who you’ve cried to more times than able to count.

Your intention wasn’t an attempt to make your life as miserable as possible. In fact, each day you strived for a resource, an indication things would grow better, as better as it seemed to be for everyone else.

Though you can only stretch a rubber band so far, and once it reaches its farthest extent, it snaps.

And the recoil stings.

“Okay, thank you.” You respond after a beat of silence, lips pulled into a tight line, investigating the information written on the card.

She pats your shoulder, a sweet smile worn upon pink lipstick.

Lee’s Baking Class.

Lee. The name sounds familiar.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[lovelytsunoda]

spill the wine // lance stroll

summary: honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls. capri will always hold a special place in y/n's heart.

pairing: lance stroll x hutchence!reader

part two of the welcome to wherever you are verse

author's note: i'm so glad that you guys loved the first part of the welcome to wherever you are verse! i was so excited to make this into a series, combining two of my current hyperfixations. i hope that the first part was enough to make some of you curious about the life and times of my favourite aussie rock band. for people who are looking to learn more, i recommend watching the channel seven drama 'never tear us apart', starring luke arnold as micheal hutchence. it's two episodes, each of them an hour and a half that takes a look into the rise and fall of inxs. arnold's protrayal of micheal was beautifully done (and i love alex williams as kirk).

y/n.hutchence just posted to her private story!

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

island of capri, italy.

tagged: lancestroll

liked by lancestroll, officialinxs, yourbestie and 130 others.

y/n.hutchence as my father once said, 'spill the wine, kiss that girl."

see all comments

jonfarriss first of all those aren't the real words, and your father didn't actually write spill the wine

-> y/n.hutchence jon why do you have to be right all the time huh?

-> jonfarriss you also know that song is about being on five different kinds of illegal drugs?

-> andrewfarriss he's being annoying because he cares. make smart choices, kiddo!

-> y/n.hutchence andrew have you ever known me not to make the smart choice? i'm living the sober girlie lifestyle here

yourbestie looking good sunshine!!!remember to send me pics, I need to pretend I don’t work a nine to five!

lancestroll wow I can’t decide what’s more beautiful: the scenery or my wife (jokes on you guys, it’s my wife)

-> y/n.hutchence 🥺🥺

kirkpengilly nice to see alcatraz hasn’t changed

-> y/n.hutchence of course you hated it...you hate the beach, the sand, the water, the sun

-> kirkpengilly i do not

-> laynebeachley sweetie she is right.

lancestroll just added to his story

lancestroll just posted!

island of capri, italy

tagged: y/n.hutchence

liked by y.n/hutchence, kirkpengilly, astonmartinf1 and 4,567 others

lancestroll honeymooning with the hutchence-strolls

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astonmartinf1 are lemons supposed to be that big?

-> y/n.hutchence arent they awesome?

estebanocon why do you have to add 'with the hutchence-strolls' to everything?? 'easter with the hutchence-strolls' 'cook chicken gyros with the hutchence strolls' its EXHAUSTING. watch you guys make a sex tape and call it 'making babies with the hutchence-strolls'

-> kirkpengilly they'd better not! y/n i will resurrect your father and have him talk some sense into you

-> y/n.hutchence kirky calm down!! there is NO sex tape!

user y/n is so stunning! europe looks good on her

yourbestie i held my tongue at the wedding but she has been so fucking happy since you guys got married and if you hurt her i will give you HELL to PAY

-> lancestroll don't worry, she's in good hands. she's my reason to get up every morning, my reason to smile. i have never felt more alive than i do when she is next to me

garrygarybeers huh i actually think capri has gotten nicer since 1993

mickschumacher why do your legs look so long in the first picture

-> lancestroll thanks mick, now that you've pointed it out i can never unsee it smh

y/n.hutchence just posted (private)

liked by yourbestie, yourmom, lancestroll and 278 others

y/n.hutchence take my breath away

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lancestroll it was an honor to experience the grotto with you, my wife

-> y/n.hutchence the view was pretty, but you were prettier, my husband

yourbestie consider my mind BLOWN. things like these just exist in nature???

timfarriss now why didn't we go here when we were recording the album again? this place would have inspired the crap out of us. your dad would have loved it.

fernandoalonso ah yes, the grotto. fond memories of skinny dipping there

-> lancestroll ew why did you think i needed to know that

-> y/n.hutchence i second that

(next part)

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @clemswrld @httpiastri @cartierre @lorarri @thatsdemko @sidcrosbyspuck

[tokiwarcube]

I always wondered what the boys would think if their s/o was in a band (the genre is up to you) and they have the same position in the band as the boys. This has been a thought that won’t leave me alone, help me!!

P.s I love your writings for these 5 silly men !! :)

Aww, thank you so much!! I absolutely fell in love with this prompt -- and I had an absolute blast writing it! Now I will Also be thinking about this forever, haha. Enjoy! <3

(Implied NS/FW warning for Pickles' section!)

Nathan Explosion

My simple, multi-platinum krillionaire rockstar — for as much as he daydreams about what life would have been like if he got to live like a regular jack-off, it’s just not the path for him. So dating another famous lead vocalist? Right up his alley.

He actually likes it more than he thought — it’s nice to bounce lyrics off of you, and vice versa. Toying with pitch, cadence, and intonation, all the different vocal techniques without judgement of sounding silly… Your halls are always alive with the sound of music… even if the subject is about death and murder, it’s its own form of magic.

But singing at home and singing in concert are two very, very different beasts. He wasn’t prepared for how intense you could be on stage, with the band to back you up. Your confidence as you stride, growling so mean he can feel it in his blood before perking back up to bounce away? All of your little stunts? Half of him is taking notes for their next show, and half of him is utterly starstruck. Your eyes dart over to him every now and again, smiling when you notice his wide eyes. His breath hitches when you throw a little wave to him in response, and he can’t help the breathless “holy shit” that falls from his lips.

You’re not as popular as Dethklok, but you couldn’t tell that from inside the venue walls — with how easily you command the crowd, he’s certain you were a siren in a past life. Or now. You could tell everyone in this room to jump off a bridge, and they would, he’s certain of it.

That would make a good song, actually…

Pickles the Drummer

Pickles has a pretty sizable repertoire of instrument proficiency — bass, guitar, keys… a brief stint with an alto sax, as a bit… and currently, drums. He’s got a soft spot in his heart for all of it, each instrument representing a specific era of his life, but he’s found himself enjoying the drums the most. It’s strong, supportive — every song needs a beat! It takes a specific personality to play drums well, and it’s one that he both embodies within himself, and covets when in others.

This is all to say — he finds it very hot that you play drums.

And as a man who appreciates a nice set of legs, he very much likes the effects drumming has on your calves. Your calves might be sore after a long practice session, but that’s nothing compared to the bites he’ll leave later in the night.

He also loves to watch you play — sweat rolling down the column of your throat as you raise your hands above your head for another well-timed strike, lost in the rhythm… Woof.

You’ve kind of gotta beat him back with a stick while on tour if you ever want to go out for drinks after a show — if he had it his way, he’d be spending the post-concert glow in the hotel, letting you know just how much he liked your performance.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Anyone looking in would assume this would be a point of competition, but he actually really loves having someone he can talk technical with! Despite being in Dethklok, he doesn’t really get to talk guitar often — Toki, Murderface, and Pickles can play, sure, but the former two don’t give a fuck about technique, and Pickles just doesn’t care about it enough to chat about it outside of the studio.

He loves hearing about all of the little musical decisions you’ve contributed to in each song — don’t think he didn’t catch the time signature change there. Just a single bar, why? Or this section here, that was a reprise of the first song in the album — how are they connected? He catches all the little details, and he wants to know all about them. In this same vein, he’s also great to bounce ideas off of when you’re in a rut… but be careful! His ideas are damn-good, and at this rate, he might just need a spot in the writer’s credits.

It’s very fun to just sit down and jam with him, passing the melody back and forth as your improvised tune grows. He calls it practice — and in a sense, it is — but really, he just likes playing with you.

He pushes to have your tours alternate with Dethklok’s so he can be at all of your shows, and vice versa — you have his full attention during your solos, and he’s not above slapping the boys to get them to shuts up so he can hear you in all of your glory.

He’s pretty stationary on stage — such is the downside of working with a bunch of uncoordinated dumbasses. (He is not exempt from this.) But if you have the agility and focus to bounce around on stage while playing? Oh, he didn’t think he could fall in love any further. He didn’t think he was capable of being starstruck, but you’ve proven him wrong tenfold. He’ll happily brave a couple thousand rabid fans for the pit experience — sorry to all the people stuck behind his towering self, but being backstage is nothing compared to barrier. The flashing lights, choking fog and towering flames only make you look more beautiful than ever, and he can’t help but reach out to you when you waggle your fingers at the crowd.

Personally offended if you don’t throw him at least one pick on tour. He does not care that he is 1.) Dating you, and 2.) Has limitless access to your stash. It’s the principle.

You wear each other’s picks on necklaces <3

Toki Wartooth

You play rhythm too? Wowee! You’re so good, though — how are you not playing solos?

He is completely gobsmacked by the fact that not only are you not the lead guitarist, but that you don’t care to be, either. I mean, he has Skwisgaar to compete against — and as loathe as he is to say it, it’s a pretty fucking high bar to surpass. But you? You could easily play lead! You just don’t want to? What?

He doesn’t really get it, but he writes it off as just you being humble. Beyond that, your similarity doesn’t really play too big of a role in your shared lives! But when concert season rolls around, he’s insistent about hanging out at barrier, just so he can see what it’s like to be at one of your shows. And then, then, that’s when he gets it.

You never seem to stand still, bouncing this way and that, playing in ways he never even thought possible. You don’t need to play solos to wow the crowd — hell, he’s been practically raised by the most popular band in the world, but with you in front of him now, he feels like just another one of your adoring fans itching at the chance to even be seen. Nobody cheers louder than Toki, and he’s insistent on going to each and every one of your shows.

After show from here on out he’ll interlock hands with you, congratulating you on yet another show well-done. He traces the callouses on your fingertips, heart swelling with giddiness at dating such a badass guitarist.

William Murderface

Finally, someone else who appreciates a good bass line. A band is nothing without the bass, especially metal, and it’s nice to talk to someone else who understands that. Especially after being AJFA’d out off all their most recent albums.

Playing bass is a very thankless job — you have to support the entire band, giving them structure and direction without any of the thanks that the rhythm guitar or the drums get. The most, and I mean the most that he gets, is a solo at the end of the show. Which is fun, but you know… it’s very much a job that you take because you love the big picture, not the details.

That’s his point of view, anyways. Because the second he sees you in-show, his whole world gets flipped on his head.

You have a very confident poise on stage — unshakeable, much like the deep notes that you pluck from the instrument. And yet, you command attention from the crowd effortlessly. It’s like you were made for this — all long strides and sneaky smiles as you move around on stage. And despite the eccentricity of your fellow bandmates — a very energetic show, he’s noticed — you still draw a sizable amount of attention from the packed arena, and man does he wish he was in the pit right now so he could get that sly little smile head-on. And huh, maybe bass can be fun, after all.

He loves to brag about you, and will do so at any opportunity.

After seeing your prowess on stage, he starts practicing a bit outside of concert season… and then more, and more, until he finally feels ready enough to fight to get the bass turned up in the next Dethalbum. Thanksch, babe.

[staretes]

Hello may I request an ex husband Jing Yuan x reader?

diverging paths

synopsis: "til death do us part" were the words uttered by you and jing yuan on the happiest day of your life, promising to love and cherish each other for the rest of your long lives. but what are promises, but words to be broken? or, jing yuan sees you, decades after your separation, now a bystander to the life that once revolved around him w/c: 0.7k tags: jing yuan x reader, angst, not proofread a/n: thank you anon for sending me this!! (sorry for the angst HAHA) i think i like it?? it may be ooc but i can never tell?

jing yuan is fine. he's perfectly fine.

he's sitting by a stall in aurum alley, savouring one of the rare moments of his free time with yanqing, when suddenly you stroll past, accompanied by someone else. it's like time stops around him, and his eyes are no longer able to see anything but you. 

it's been decades since he's last seen you. you look more confident. happier. you've changed so much without him. your lips form a beaming smile, one that was once reserved for him, and your fingers are intertwined with your lover in a soft, everlasting grasp.

oh.

your hands look so strange without a wedding band on your finger. jing yuan himself had stopped wearing his ring, leaving the broken symbol of the eternal love both of you promised each other hidden in his bedside drawer. he wonders why you stopped wearing it. maybe you, like him, felt the icy guilt stabbing into his chest whenever your ring comes into sight.

but that couldn't be right. after all, you did nothing worthy of guilt.

maybe, just maybe, you left behind the ring shackling your hands to free yourself of the marriage that had kept you trapped for so long. jing yuan imagines how unrestricted you must feel, like a bird soaring out from its cage, no longer burdened by a dying marriage.

"jing yuan, this isnt working."  this was bound to happen,  jing yuan thinks.  as general of the luofu, he carries the weight of the entire ship on his shoulders. he’s seen the bitter eyes hidden by your understanding smile whenever he was whisked away to deal with the luofu’s every stain and smudge. he’s arrived late and left early on every date, anniversary and birthday you’ve tried to spend with him. when was the last time he even slept in the same bed as you? it’s almost impressive that you’ve lasted 300 years in this empty marriage. throughout these years, he’s watched as the passion and vibrance drain from you, as you poured your love into him, and he took it all, not leaving a single drop for you. “ I’ll be there, next time,” he tells both himself and you. after all, you’ve been there for him all this time. but time and time again, he shatters your trust, leaving you to pick up the pieces and glue them back together all by yourself. it would be cruel to keep you caged in this neglected marriage. so jing yuan let you go without a single question. *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* jing yuan remembers the last time he sees you.  this is the crossroad, where the two of you part ways, where you'll be free to journey through your long, happy life.  "you'll be fine, right?" you ask, your eyes meeting his. "of course, " he lies through a smile. after all, you've already wasted enough of your concern on him. "i wish you well, (name)." he speaks again, but this time, his words are nothing but sincere. "alright then." you say resoundingly, but the doubtful worry does not fade from your eyes. however, it does not matter, as your gaze drops to the ground. "i wish you well too," you tell him and you leave, all the same. 

"general, aren't you at all sad?" he hears yanqing inquire curiously from behind him. “they were once your lover right? qingzu told me.”

it’s at this point that jing yuan realises that he’s been staring at you with a blank expression on his face. hurrying to recover, he faces his young apprentice. 

“you should know better than to listen to qingzu.” he chuckles half–heartedly. “but yes, they were my lover. however, we found that we worked better apart. sometimes yanqing, when you love someone, you have to learn to let them go.” 

“but don’t you miss them?” yanqing asks further, his young mind still confused. 

"i do," he admits. “ but i have wonderful memories of them, and i will cherish those memories always.” always is an understatement, jing yuan thinks, for in his long life ahead, he promises to never let the memories of you fade away.

his gaze lands back on you. you haven’t even noticed him. you’re still walking with your partner, oblivious to the rest of the world. jing yuan knows the feeling. his eyes soften as he watches you laughing and smiling, walking away from him without a glance cast his way.

he hopes you’re happy.

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: neteyam x olo'eyktan metkayina male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: There's a bit of time before your ceremony—you take advantage of it.

ʀᴇ𝐐: no ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1370 ~ neteyam & reader are in their late 20's

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: swearing

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i have to write one of these sometime

☾⋆☆⋆☽

There was a buffer of time before the ceremony—your ceremony. You didn't exactly know what caused it, be it the current Tsahìk still getting prepared, or the Tsakarem or current Olo'eyktan, or perhaps even the venue. And if it was the reason, you thought it rather peculiar, because your family weren't ones to take long in little things such as preparation.

Whatever the case, you took advantage of it.

Neteyam took you in. He gazed upon your bare skin, lacking all jewelry and ornaments, even your Iknimaya band, knife and sheath. Though the sight was one to behold, a small panic settled in. "Should you not be getting prepared?" He rushed over.

You only chuckle at his concern, "If it worries you so, we can go back to my preparation pod. However, I must take the moment to speak with you."

"Why is that?" He takes the offer silently, leading you along back to your pod.

"There's a lot in my mind. It runs like those dire horses you tell me about." You give a small laugh, "And..."

"And?" He asks impatiently.

Though you had sought him out, you don't quite have the courage to tell him what you wanted to. "...my family isn't ready yet. That's what I think, anyway."

He huffs, "Surely it won't be long."

"However much time it takes, I'll spend it with you."

It was a simple sentiment, but nice either way. Spending time with your best friend, right before the biggest ceremony of your life—maybe second to your mate ceremony, where you showed off your beloved that you would spend your every moment with; it was something that usually happened before the Olo'eyktan crowning, but you hadn't found the one yet.

Once you settle down, relaxed atop the only chair in your pod, Neteyam can't help but worry. You were the one to become Olo'eyktan, yet you remained calm. He, on the other hand, paces anxiously.

"Are you worried?"

Instead of answering, he stops before you and asks, "Why are you bare?" You were practically naked, stripped from your usual ornaments and garments. It was a sight to drink in, but he had to find an excuse for his staring.

"My loved ones must paint my skin before the ceremony. They all learned a different technique to the painting. Their marks will signify their shared love for me."

He nods, slowly, "Your family?"

You give half a shrug that doesn't quite answer his question, "My family, sure."

"Okay, well, yes, I'm worried." Neteyam takes a deep breath, revisiting the breathing techniques you'd taught him years ago, the very ones he didn't have to think about doing anymore. Right now, they slip from his mind. "Of course I am, you're about to become Olo'eyktan."

"I am."

"And you're going to—how are you so calm right now?" His hands remain stiff in his hair, mid run through.

"It's what I've been trained for all my life." You say simply, "I knew this day would come and I'm, well, prepared for it."

He lets out a small laugh. "I was to be Olo'eyktan once." He thinks it ironic. "I was trained for it too. My people looked up to me. That pressure weighed heavy on my shoulders. How does it evade yours?"

"In truth, I don't know, Neteyam." You beckon him to sit next to you. Mindlessly, he does. "Perhaps it is that I have more, we'll say, nerve-wracking things on my mind right now."

Right. You had told him that your mind was running like a dire horse, though the word should be galloping. "Like what?"

You can't really say it. As you stare into his pretty eyes, the small cluster of algae that was your courage shrunk like it was drying.

Neteyam fills in your silence with his own words. "What could possibly be more nerve-wracking than becoming Olo'eyktan? Won't it be hard to live up to your father's name, his legacy? Being the leader of the archipelago and its many islands, all under the Metkayina tribe?" He shakes his head, thinking of many more things. "More nerve-wracking than–?"

"You're beautiful."

It was a passing thought, one that popped up in your head as you watched him speak. You didn't mean to blurt it out at all, only realizing after he points it out with his shock.

His lips press into a thin line, that expression of his you'd come to be familiar with. For a moment you think only bad could come of it, but instead he looks away, his expression turning bashful. "I should be the one saying that." He mumbles, his mouth opening far too little.

Your heart flutters. You scoot a little closer, bringing a hand to his cheek so that you may turn his once attentive gaze towards you once more. "Why is that?"

"Well, it's your day." Though you had turned his head towards you, his eyes still avoid your face. "Your ceremony, your new title, your new tattoos, your new songcord bead."

He closes his eyes, shaking his head with his words, "What even is there to call beautiful about me?"

"I don't know."

He rolls his eyes, but does not roll his head with them, too fearful of losing your touch.

"Sorry, I mean," You snicker, looking away to gather your thoughts. Neteyam takes the opportunity to stare at you. You're beautiful this way, beautiful any way, beautiful all ways. "If I had to choose one thing..."

You turn back to him, suddenly, and he doesn't tear his eyes away. "Everything."

"That isn't one thing." Because he can't tear his eyes away.

"Then I choose all of it." Neteyam brings a hand to hold onto yours. "Your smile, your hair, your eyes, your laughter; your immense need to care. All of you that I see."

The way his face lights up, it's gradual, piece by piece, but it doesn't take long. It starts at his ears perking up, then his smile widening, his cheeks raising with his lips, and his eyes creasing at the corners. His smile doesn't grow into a grin, however, and it doesn't take long for the entirety of his face to turn sheepish. He buries his head into his hands and laughs a small little laugh. His legs, both, kick restlessly.

He says something in English you don't quite know. Even in all your years together, he hadn't taught you the word. "I'm so fucking childish."

"What does that mean?" You ask, "Fu–?"

"Don't say that word." He warns, suddenly coming out his blue-skinned, handmade shell. "It's not exactly a good one."

"Okay."

"Is what you mean–" He shakes his head at himself, closing his eyes. How could he be so doubtful? He really wasn't sure of it, your feelings. He wanted to be sure. "That you... like me?"

"Yes," You bring both his hands in yours, "I... want you to be my mate."

"But I'm..." He stares down at his hands. Still dark blue. "and you're Olo–you're going to be Olo'eyktan."

You were always kind, always responsible, always aware of your future role. Because of this, your words were always premeditated. You couldn't tarnish your reputation in the clan. But right now, you don't see the need for it. "What do I care for it?"

Neteyam laughs at your brashness.

"Nga yawne lu oer. That is all that I care for. Though, for many years, I battled with that." You admit, "It is why I haven't told you of them, of my feelings for you. I should've told you much sooner."

"I'll say, your crowning day was probably not the best day," He declares with a laugh, "I should've told you as well."

"Well, we have only but the present."

He curses at how easy it is for you to be smooth. "Fu–" He smothers the curse against your neck, instead of into his hands again. He wraps his long arms around you, securing your larger body in his embrace. You return the hug much more gently.

"Will you accept my proposal? Be my mate? Because I'd like to invite you to paint me for the ceremony, and that is the job of a loved one."

Oh, for Eywa!

[jaketsparrow]

TENDING Part 6.1

Tending Part 6.1!

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Josh Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: Welp it’s been months since I’ve updated this bad boy and I do apologize profusely. I finally feel like I’ve had my creative spark back :) I hope you can all forgive me that its 1. Late 2. Only half of a part. This is going to be a backstory chapter with some drama mixed in! The next chapter will most likely be the last… Also, I PROMISE I will be better updating from now on! 

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Angst, mentions of vomit, swearing, lots of emotional/break up/ manipulation talks, lots and lots of drama and yelling, unfortunately, no smut this time around friends, please forgive me :)

Masterpost

The echoes of the rowdy women finally start to calm down. No more ‘how's my makeup?’, ‘that band was so good’, ‘Let’s get an Uber’. Just the silence of the empty bathroom, except for a steady drip-drop from the faucet. The bar outside was still rambunctious and full of life, but here in this one grimy stall, you were lucky to have a few moments of peace. 

It was one of those ‘worn-in’ bathrooms. Drawings everywhere, phone numbers plastered across the stall doors, posters from previous events hanging askew to the sides of you. You couldn’t really tell if any of the surfaces around you were ‘clean’, but at this point, you didn’t care enough to think of the germs collecting. 

You had your back against the cool textured wall, trying to collect yourself, finding sensations other than anxiety to focus on. You try to gather your surroundings, grounding yourself by running your hands over the words and numbers on either side of you. 

Reality starts to set back in after the panic lowers. You can feel your body temperature dropping, the adrenaline and booze wearing off. Your eyes had finally stopped tearing up and for a brief moment, you had enough strength to asses.

What the actual fuck was going on? 

Why did you feel so torn up about this man? When at every turn he just disappoints you. 

Every chance you’ve given Jake has proven that maybe he wasn’t a person you could fix. You loved a good fixer-upper and you couldn’t stay away. Coming from a broken past yourself made it easy to want to try and help others, to coax others into feeling better, doing better. It was a habit you tried to break often, but always cycled back around. 

Jake wasn’t the right person to give everything to. Every negative thought of him swirled around you, consuming you. The entire Mariella situation came flooding back to you. You fall weak for him every time, your rage turning into the most fucked up but beautiful apologies of lovemaking. Although you can’t romanticize sex with him, it’s quite honestly been pure lust. Craving each other, needing each other’s skin despite everything else falling apart. 

You want him to tell you that you’re his girl… That you’re his good girl. You want to hear those words whispering in your ear, quivering at his slow breaths against your skin. It would make everything better because it just would. His praise is worth a thousand apologies. Wrapping yourself around him and staring deep into his big brown eyes was enough to make you forget everything. Feeling him reach your very limits, pulling you as close to him as you can get…

No.

But, you can’t let yourself be persuaded into a relationship of toxicity for the perfect fuck. 

Well…

You haven’t even considered that there was also the good Jake. Not just the good-in-bed Jake, but the Jake that let you dance with him, despite denying that he could. The soft chuckle that he let escape his lips as you paraded yourselves around his living room. The music that filled the room slowly felt like it had slipped away the longer you noticed your connection growing. It was hard to even remember what was playing because all you could remember was his soft brown eyes looking back at you. 

There was the Jake that did fight for you, multiple times. He stood his ground to a woman who was trying to do everything in her power to keep you two apart. He showed you his most private comfort place, where you both bared your souls to the nature around you. The most intimate and freeing apology of all. There was the version of Jake who quit his job so you could still work… 

God. He was the epitome of an anti-hero. 

The tears returned, streaming in small bursts down your face, never stopping. Your head started to collapse below you, trying to keep the tears from melting away the makeup you spent hours preparing for him. Each drop fell below you, although you could hardly see any of it through your clouded eyes. 

If you weren’t going to end up with this man, he would be for sure the one that got away. He would constantly be on your mind. Ruining you. Climbing through every future memory of intimacy. Asking you ‘Is he better than me sunshine?’ and ‘I bet he can’t make you shake like I can’. Jake would swarm every thought, every decision, every lover.

This night caused more confusing thoughts to enter the mix. Although he showed such kindness to you, it was always in a backward way. 

How could you deal long-term with someone so jealous? Someone who is jealous of you for forming a friendship with his own brother? How could you continue with someone who wasn’t even sure if he wanted to continue with you? Granted that time has passed, but will that thought always be in the back of his mind?

From this point on it felt less like a decision you had to make and more of a decision for him. But he had always picked you, between Mariella, between the job, he always chose you… 

Slam!

“Oh shit.” A male voice echoes into the bathroom, “Is it clear in here?” 

The house was completely dark when you pulled into the driveway. It was the first time Jake even let you drive in his presence; although he had no choice considering the state he was in when you left the bar. He probably could’ve handled the road fine but it was easier for you to get behind the wheel. 

You park the car where he would usually leave his, and sit awkwardly in silence for a moment; gripping onto the steering wheel. Sweat steaming between the leather grips and your palms.

Your heart is pounding. This is a deciding moment, you weren’t sure where the conversation would lead you. You remember your first night together, back at the bar, feeling that same heartbeat flutter. Only this time the feelings you had were not full of new beginnings, but rather worrying about an ending. 

He hadn’t spoken a word since you put him in the passenger seat. He made no admirations to the cute knickknacks you had collected in your car. It was a very tidy car, but over the years you tried to put more of yourself in the car; this thing is yours until you run it in the ground, so why not? Cute little celestial strings hung from the rearview mirror, little statued women sat near your speedometer, just little pieces of you sprinkled in this steel box. You were especially hurt that he didn’t immediately perk up at the CD cases tucked between his seat and the center console; he wasn’t even interested in seeing if you had ‘good music taste’. 

This was awkward, but you had to get out of that bar. There was no way you were going to be able to discuss anything productively with his two brothers and best friend listening in on every word and possibly amplifying the situation further. You had learned your lesson finally. 

“Jake,” You attempt to prod him in a calm and gentle voice, hesitant with your tone. Remaining neutral. 

He doesn’t respond. He starts to fiddle with his belt, holding his head down in a pouting position. His thumbs run past the buckle, swirling in patterns over the metal. He can’t even look at you. It’s the same avoidance all over again. He’s like a child in that respect, he can’t even come to sit at the table for real adult conversations. 

You turn to face him, lifting your leg slightly on the seat, trying to still seem casual and not at all upset, “Jake. I brought you home because we need to keep talking.” 

The silence in the air lingers a bit longer through the tension. You two are both separated from each other entirely. Not only because of this difficult discussion, but because there was literally a part of the car separating you two. 

“I just don’t know what to say to you,” He stops fidgeting and cranes his neck back into the headrest. He’s halfway to a tantrum. You’re pushing him to be vulnerable; that would be a risky move. “Where do I even start?”

“How about you start by telling me the whole story Jake.” 

You jump up, scared of hearing the voice of the opposite sex join you in your echo chamber. “Hello?” You call out, trying not to sound as frightened as you feel. 

“Darling! You didn’t leave!” The voice sounds more familiar now. 

“Josh?” 

You unlock the stall door and peek out to see his familiar curls. He looks concerned, unsure of what he’s even doing in the women’s bathroom.

“Is he in here too?” You ask, scared to fully emerge. 

“No, he won’t move. Stubborn fucker.” 

Once you know it’s safe, you step out of the stall, holding yourself in a slump. You look over to the mirrors to see that your makeup is far past ruined; you’re practically ready to audition for clown college. You reach your hands up and awkwardly paw at your face, trying to hide the tears from Josh. The makeup runs across the pads of your fingers, the tears barely helping to wash away the mascara. 

“Oh, oh, don’t worry about that.” Josh saunters over to you, arms spread wide ready to envelop you in a hug. He braces you and reaches himself around your shoulders. You rest your head into the crook of his neck, trying to sniffle away the tears. 

“J-Josh,” You say through muffled choking breaths. 

He rubs his hand across your back, “Shh, don’t say anything to me. I need to apologize to you. I’m sorry I did that to you, it wasn’t right of me to be the one to say something like that,” He unfortunately releases the hug, but traces his hands down your arms to catch your hands, holding them firmly in his. He takes a deep breath for a moment, lowering his head in shame. “He just was being a complete dick!” 

You laugh at his honesty. Jake was being a complete fuck. His attitude always rose within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t understand where it all came from. It was like someone setting off a Molotov cocktail. 

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” You whimper, pouting your lip out, trying to keep the tears at bay. 

Josh squeezes your hands again, “I insist that you let me say that I’m sorry. I know how to get under his skin and that very moment was the wrong time to prod at him.”

Josh has this sincere look about him. Although minutes ago he couldn’t read the room, now he was, understanding the care that you needed at this moment. He had this healing, vibrant energy about him that would be impossible to be upset at. 

“You really do know how to push his buttons,” You giggle softly, “He was totally out of line and being horrible… As he is known to be…” 

Josh pouts back, mirroring your expression, “He was… And well is… But that didn’t mean I needed to say something that would hurt you too.” Josh lowers himself to meet you at your eyeline. 

It's quite remarkable how similar the two look. Although, their energy is what truly makes them stand out as different individuals. They share many of the same features, those soft yet strong bones, and the perfect full lips, but… Something about their eyes makes them so different. Josh has a ray of sunshine behind his eyes, while Jake has the stars and moon behind his. 

You drop your shoulders, “What did you mean by… You know… What you said Josh? I want to know if he even wants to keep doing… doing this whole thing.” 

“Mama, are you kidding?” He pets your hair out of your eyes, “Just look at you,  of course he does! Are you fucking joking?” Josh’s excited voice doesn’t dissuade your uncertain feelings. 

“But you said-” 

“Ah ah, you silly beautiful girl.” was this a compliment or him calling you stupid…  “You didn’t listen to everything I said,” Josh taps the side of your head, “clearly a bit foggy up here from all that whiskey you just downed- a nice touch of drama by the way.” 

You shake your head and smirk shyly. It was dramatic. It was far more confrontational than you had ever been before. He forced this side out of you, this primal, protective rage. You wanted more than ever to protect your sanity, your heart. Everything was hot, then cold, black, then white. There was no clear happy middle ground when it came to the two of you. 

Josh continues, “I said he thought you didn’t want him anymore. He was trying to respect your wishes.” He lingers on that for a moment. The words settling in… Respect… what you wanted…  “But you have to remember darling, he can be as dense as they come sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” You cut in with sarcasm.

“Yes, but shush. He needed that push to fight for what you have. Do you know how much he talked about you before we went on tonight? He wouldn’t shut up about how he was excited to have you in the crowd tonight and to go home with you, as his. Not something he had to try and win over, not someone he would have to fawn over from the other side of the bar-”

You cut Josh off, “He said all that?”

“We’ll I’m embellishing, I know he meant all of that. Anyway, my point is no matter what, he would’ve come back eventually- I know that for a fact. You’re quite special, I don't think he’s stupid enough to waste not being with you. He just needed his big brother to give him a swift kick in the ass to chase it all a bit sooner. If anything, I just moved the timeline along.” 

You raise your hands to your brows, furrowing them in confusion, “But why all the back and forth? Why all the big messes that, if I may add, are never truly cleaned up by himself. Why does everyone else have to convince him to do the right thing?” 

Josh moves his hands from yours and rubs the sides of your shoulders, “Mama I think he’s falling for you, he’s just so clueless and doesn’t know how to tell you. Men, am I right? ” 

You reach up to grab his hands, “Josh, do you realize how annoying that is?” You chuckle at the thought, Jake does have quite the incompetence for love, “How annoying it is for two people who can work together to have all of these fucking nightmares? Nightmares that I may add could’ve been avoided.  He’s been constantly trying to burn this bridge ever since we built it!”

“Of course, I know it’s a mess, but you have to understand the reason he is this way.” 

“And why is he that way? I think he likes to make us all scramble around for him…”

You drop your hands, dramatically pacing about the bathroom now. Trying to make it all make sense. Everything is done so that Jake is in the right. Everything is cleaned up for Jake. He never has to think too much about anything because someone else will come along and give him an ultimatum or push him in the right direction. He never has to come be the one to apologize because someone else will come to clean up his messes; to give grand excuses for his behavior. 

‘Oh, he didn’t know’ or ‘he’s so confused’. 

You couldn’t be in a relationship with a man where you were constantly having to cater to him, to always be the forgiving one. A few weeks were draining enough to experience all of this, but how would months, even years feel? 

Josh breaks the silence, “Well that’s because someone else did that to him.”

You stop pacing, thinking about what Josh could mean by that. Someone else? As in another girlfriend? You start to slowly walk back into the conversation. 

“Why? Wait, what happened?” 

The door rustles behind Josh. Danny pokes his head in, awkwardly smiling at the two of you. He puts his hand up in a shy wave. He’s bashful and not entirely thrilled to be interrupting.

“Not to rush,” He interjects, “But some of the girls out here are really not liking the idea of using the men’s room instead.” 

“Too bad!” Josh shouts. He stops for a moment to think. Almost like a lightbulb went off over his head he goes, “Oh! Boy! Wow! She’s really thrown up everywhere! What a fucking mess!-” 

“Josh!” You scold. 

Josh turns back to you, whispering, “If you want the story, I have to buy some time… Oh, man! Do NOT come in here! This is fucking crazy!” 

You realize Josh’s plan and play into it, making loud gagging noises to sell it further. 

“Don’t! Blehhh Come in!” You yell. 

“Oh wow! They’re going to need two mops for this mess!” Josh can’t help but giggle at his own statement. 

“Josh!” You laugh with him this time, “Two?!”

Danny smiles at the improv, poking his head back outside. You can hear his muffled voice softly telling the women that you ‘just need some time to clean up’. 

“Okay, go!” You push, “You can’t leave a cliffhanger like that! Mr. Stoic was in love? Mr. has no emotions?!” 

“Well,” Josh sighs, “I wouldn’t call it real love…. But yes, Jake had a love, once. She was horrible, awful. We all hated her.”

“This sounds like a great start.” You interject, “It’s always the problematic woman huh? And the innocent manipulator?  

Josh sighs, and grabs your hands into his, “Can ya let me tell my story before you start with all your comments?”

You squeeze Josh’s hands back, nodding, agreeing to behave. 

“Oh good, because it’s a fabulous story, but I never get to tell it! My brother is awfully sensitive about her. ‘Don’t bring her up Josh’, ‘I’m fine as long as I forget about her’. Ugh. He just couldn’t let go of her. Quite an annoying person. She was always the first one to pick on Jake, more so than I do- which as you know, is saying something. She loved to point out all his flaws, and try to take away his autonomy in every sense. He fell victim to it, becoming a pet of hers. She’d say jump, he’d say how high… 

She would show up to all his shifts at the last bar he worked at, and sit there and watch him… I don’t mean she would fawn over him the way you used to, but she would sit there, and judge every interaction, everything he did… The entire time. She was… to put it nicely… Psychotic.”

She sounds lovely, you think to yourself. Explains some of the behavior he’s displayed in the past few months. The need to be in control in the bedroom, the lack of emotional intelligence…

“She wanted to control Jake, and because he was young, stupid, and well, in love. And you know what that ass did? He let her. We started to protest it, tried to set up more gigs to get him out of the house, to introduce him to more people, show him he was better than her, and she found out.”

The reaction is swift and immediate, “Oh, he didn’t…” 

“Oh yeah, that fucking idiot told her everything! There were no secrets between them! She made sure of that. Well, really I should say, he had no secrets when it came to her. That… She… I could count on two hands how many ‘friends’ she saw behind his back… She hated us for trying to break down the manipulations. So when she saw that he was pulling away from him, she started to catch on to him and where we were stealing him away. He broke one night and crushed all of our hard work. And from that point on, all she did was take him away from us, until…” 

“... Until?” You poke. 

An uncomfortable sigh pushes through Josh, “Until she made a move on me.” 

“What?!” You exclaim. 

“Yes, yes, quite dramatic. We were out one night all together, playing pool or darts or something. She had only let Jake go out with us if she was there to be his bitchy chaperone; we couldn’t be trusted to be alone with him anymore. Well later that night I’m driving the two of them home, Jake’s practically passed out in the passenger seat and she was screaming some stupid pop music in the back seat. I helped her into the house, leaving Jake to rest a little longer since he was out. I walked her into the living room and laid her on the couch. When she fell back, she latched onto me and practically sucked my face off while I struggled to get her alien mouth off of me.”

Josh mimics the entire scenario, creating his reenactment of sorts. Flailing his body about the linoleum floors. What a fucking character.

“Oh no…” The severity of this situation is climbing and climbing, and everything is starting to make sense. 

Josh continues, “Little did either of us know, but Jake was not asleep in the car, just merely ‘resting his goddamn eyes’ and came through the front door to find her tongue halfway down my throat. They screamed, and he cried, then she cried, meanwhile, I scrubbed my mouth out in the kitchen sink… It was a whole ordeal.”

“But why did she even kiss you? Was it to get back at Jake for something? Just a fucking cheating addiction? Why would she do that to him?” There are so many questions to be answered, and your time in this ‘private’ bathroom was running out. 

“She claims the whole twin thing and that she was too drunk to make out who was who, but darling… Can you believe that? I am much better looking than Jake, you’d think she’d know the difference.”

“Okay, Josh.” You roll your eyes. 

“All in all, it was quite uncomfortable for me, but it was enough to push Jake to leave her once and for all. It took him ages to be able to talk to me about it, mostly because during their whole fight she had convinced him it was my idea. By some sort of good magic, he broke her spell and listened to reason… But through this whole ordeal, he lost a lot of the love he could give… 

He just didn’t trust me or anyone anymore. He got paranoid all the time and would hate to be alone, but if I came to live with him he wanted me to leave after only a couple of days. I felt horrible for him.” Josh dropped his head, “He had wasted years being taken around like a show pony… All for it to end because she couldn’t resist me.”

“Oh my god Josh, you’re not helping yourself look any better here!” You joke at him, knocking your palm into his shoulder. 

“Oh c’mon! You know what I mean.” He turns to face his complexion in the mirror, playing with the tussles of his curls, “Anyways, from that point on he became this mysterious shrouded man that none of us recognized. He started having more random girls follow him home from the bar, he started just being stupid. 

And that lovely ex-girlfriend of his, well she never stopped showing up at the bar… She would come in and harass every girl who showed up at the bar, but never in a way that she would be caught. She would leave backhanded compliments, tell them that Jake would never go for them, blah blah. All bullshit so she could keep control of him. He pleaded with her to leave, to give him time to heal; but she wouldn’t.

The manager and security finally caught on to her, but by that point, it was too late. Jake was worried he would never move on as long as she knew where he was. So he had to move to a different bar, the one you worked at…” 

Josh glances over at you to gauge your reaction. He looks suspicious like he’s hiding some of the truth. 

“Okay… Feels like there's more to this story…” You follow Josh’s reflection and catch him half-wincing. 

“There is. And you might not like it, but…” He turns back to face you. 

“But…?” You Push 

“...What did Jake tell you about Mariella?” 

“Mariella?” A name you thought you wouldn’t have to deal with now. You had finally felt like you had the upper hand on that bitch, “Just that they had slept together once, right when he started… Right?” 

Before you can even finish your sentence a craze starts to fill through you. Fuck. You can see the puzzle pieces connecting in your mind. Not a complete picture yet, but you know something is going to be said that will connect all the pieces. 

What does she have to do with all of this? 

“Well. That is correct. But did he tell you why he slept with her?”

“Josh… I don’t like where this is going.” 

Your pulse starts to drop again. You had hoped you would hear nothing more of this story or this girl, mostly because you thought that had been resolved. You already had enough jealousy that had built up from that situation, and you can feel it burrowing through your sane mind again. 

“I don’t think you entirely will, but it pertains to the story.” Josh sighs, “Now these are probably details he left out because of the whole other story… but Mariella was a friend of Jean, his ex.”

A complete feeling of bewilderment smacks you. The fuck? Friend? Is this a revenge story? A rebound? Did he…? 

You don't have much time to think before Josh is spoon-feeding you the rest of the story. 

“Jake knew that Mariella and Jean were friends. Now they weren’t best friends or anything like that, but he knew that if he slept with her, it would be enough to feel like he was even for Jean hitting on me or something- I don't know! 

“That’s gross.” You can’t help but feel gross knowing Jake was that kind of guy. 

“Well…Except, he couldn’t.”

You make a befuddled face, confused, “He couldn’t what? Like he decided it was bad? He had come to his senses?” 

Josh grits his teeth, almost looking like he is unsure whether he should share these next details. 

“He cried. He made it to her bedroom and cried. They were still dressed, he never even attempted anything. He brought her home, talked a big game, and then sat there and cried on the edge of her bed. He tried to get something going, but I think she had come to her senses by that point… He had put on this tough exterior for months, but he couldn’t be that guy. He didn’t want to admit that to anyone… And well Mariella had everything she needed to blackmail Jake.” 

“Fuck.” You walk over to the sinks, leaning your lower back into the counter, “So he never even-”

“No mama. He didn’t.” Josh strolls over to lean next to you. 

“Then why did he?-” 

“Would you want to tell someone you're sleeping with that your first rebound you spend the entire night crying?” 

“I guess not.” 

Everything was starting to make sense. That cool, distinguished vibe Jake was always trying to emulate was a front, when in fact he was as soft and gentle as you had dreamed. Jake was just a lost boy, floundering around, trying to protect himself from being made a fool, or falling in love too hard too soon. 

You turn to look at Josh, who is wincing through all the realization, “Fuck. Oh no Josh… He’s going to hate you for telling me all of this.” 

“I know.” Josh pets his chin between his hands, “Still not sure if it was the right thing to do… Seems like I’ve gotten pretty good at oversharing Jake’s messes. Maybe you can convince him to tell you his story, now that you know he’s worth trying.” 

“I never said I would try Josh, I still feel pretty fucked by this whole thing. The least he could do is actually fuck me instead of fucking me over and knocking my brains around in my head every couple of days.”

Josh shrugs, “That’s Jake. At least, the Jake that’s out there now. But I know what he’s capable of.” He winks at you. 

You lean over to hug Josh, squeezing him with all of your might. “I don’t know what to do Josh. I think I love him.” 

“I think he feels the same way, Mama.” He pets the back of your head, calming you. 

You can practically feel the radiation of relief washing over Josh. He never knows whether he’s saying the right things or not. But just that simple explanation gave you everything you needed to forgive Jake, or at least to know it’s worth trying to talk something out with him. It was sad to know that it didn’t come from him, but wounds can be hard to talk about. 

You had wounds of your own, fears of being abandoned, and always ready to cut things off before getting your heart broken. Perhaps you were too quick to keep turning Jake away, but of course, all of this is easy to say now that you have the full story and time to reflect. 

Knock… Slam. 

Jake barrels in, guns blazing, ready to tear the place apart. 

“Hey!!” 

He drunkenly stomps over to the two of you and pulls you apart. 

“Jake!” You scold. 

He turns to you, and points his finger in your face, “No. Not you. Do not get involved this time,” His finger veers over in front of Josh, “Stay out of my fucking love life. Don’t get her to leave me too.” 

Josh throws his hands up in defense, “I didn’t-”

“You always, always win Josh. You took Jean, you’re taking her too.”

Josh squares up against Jake, taking his hand to lower his finger, “Have you considered that I’m not the reason they always leave Jake? Have you considered Jean was a horrible person for you and you’re still letting her ruin your life? You’re letting it ruin her chance to know you?” Josh looks over to you this time. 

Jake throws his hands up in the air, “Ohhhh wise Joshua, please let me in on your vast knowledge of relationships. You’ve survived so much! It’s bullshit Josh. Everyone loves you, everyone adores you, you don’t fucking get it.” 

This. This was disgusting. Everything Josh was saying was completely crumbling. 

You take your moment, and prepare to join the battle, “Jake.”

He doesn’t even want to turn to look at you. He knows he’s being horrible. He knows he is trying to share the load of his pain instead of facing it. 

“No, I said no. You don’t get it either. Do you know what it’s like to always be the other twin? The less outgoing, the less lively. Oh yes, assigned that from the beginning. Josh was the star of the show and got everyone he wanted. Got all the attention. Steals everything from me…” “Are you finished?” Josh asks, crossing his arms in front of him, “Because I have something to say now.” 

Jake turns around to face the wall, smacking his palm against the brick, “Oh go ahead, please, we’d love to hear you talk some more.” 

“So you decide now is the best time to come in here to try and get her back huh? Now, twenty minutes after your dirty secrets come out? Not when she was trying to fix it? You think you’re some brave guy coming in here to save her from me? No fucking way. I- ME- I am the one who came in here to make sure she was okay, not because I’m in fucking love with her, but because she’s in love with you. You have to be honest with her, be a fucking man.” 

“Josh-” Jake murmurs, he seems hurt, “I-” He stares intently at Josh, broken from the words that were just spoken to him. You can see the emotions swirling inside of him, trying to decide: good, bad, angry, sad. You see his finger raise again and lift towards Josh. 

“Jake! Look at me!.” You place your hands on your hips, scowling at Jake. He’s still locked into Josh, staring at him with a feverous intensity. Here was that brute cover-up again, and you were ready to face it head-on. “I’ve had just about enough of whatever bullshit this is. Your adult men, knock it the fuck off, you both care about each other! Stop being petty children. You’re both pretty! Whatever you want to hear!” You feel your blood pressure rise, all the drama and persuasion you have in your body pushing forward, “Jake your brother loves you and is trying to help you because for some reason as grown as you are, you still don’t know how to use your fucking words. Josh, your brother also loves you but you do have a habit of taking things too far and stepping into shit that doesn’t belong to you… Now, if we can get back to being fucking adults tonight that would be great!”

He turns to gingerly look at you. He’s scared. Thats all. He doesn’t want to be mean. He’s like a child, unsure of how to deal with his own emotions. 

Josh looks at you, slightly frightened, but also intrigued by your willingness to control the situation. 

“Alright? We get it?” You check both of their expressions, making sure the sentiments have sunk in, “Good. Apologize so we can get this shit over with.” 

Jake jumps back and squares his shoulders, trying to boost his manly behavior. He squints his face in a peculiar unsettling way,  “I’m not-”

“I’m sorry!” Josh blurts out. He sounded fearful almost like he was scared you would do something to him if he didn’t apologize. 

You turn to look at Josh who has this sheepish apologetic look on his face. Jake brings his hand up to his face, trying to rub away the distasteful expression. He relaxes himself enough to admit to Josh, “I’m sorry too.” 

He looks to you for approval. You cross your arms over your chest and nod satisfactorily. “Okay fine. Good enough,” You examine Jake, not just trying to quickly survey his expression, but instead seeing the fear behind his deep brown eyes. The guilt slowly pulls forward, creating a stormy mess inside. “We’re taking you back to your place now. Okay?” 

He lets his guard down entirely. Shocked at the words coming out of your mouth. You two are entirely landlocked, holding your ground just feet from each other. Jake, opposite to you, has no idea that his whole love life was just spilled to you. Instead, all he knows is he is scared. He thinks he’s lost you all over again. 

He seems like he’s sobered up, like his mind is clear, like he was ready to fight for you, on his terms this time.

Josh tries to sneak past the two of you. Danny opens the door enough to let him squeak out. 

You walk up to Jake, wrapping your hands around his waist, pulling him tight into you. Lining yourself up to fit right into him. You look up to him, reaching one of your hands up to tuck the loose pieces of hair back into their rightful place. He’s silent, watching your every move. 

“Jake,” You coo, “I’m going to drive us back to your house, okay?” He nods his head, “And then,” You dig your hands into his hips, “we’re going to talk. Like how fucking real people should.”  He nods again.

You move your arms up to his back, caressing him softly, trying to show him that you aren’t as mad as you may seem. You reach around to his bicep, cuffing yourself on it, guiding him out of the bathroom. 

You open the door to find the two hooligans, Josh and Danny, leaning against the door, eavesdropping. 

“Boys, I think it’s time we call it a night.” You rub both of their shoulders, silently thanking them for their efforts tonight. “We’ll do this again soon, okay?” You look to Jake, who is still stoic, perhaps more confused than anything, “Jake and I are going to go home and chat.”

Out of nowhere, Sam pounces over to the group. He looks concerned and worried, “Oh my god! I heard you throwing up like crazy in there are you okay?!” 

You turn to Danny, “Do you wanna?-”

Danny laughs, “I got it.” 

You give Sam the same comforting arm rub as Josh and Danny and continue to parade Jake through the bar. Some glances make their way across the room. No surprise there; you were some form of entertainment for the customers tonight. 

Jake finally breaks his silence, the shock is settling, “What's?-”

You shush him, “Let's just get home.” 

Taglist:

@gvfmarge @takenbythemadness @heckingfrick @gvfpal @sanguinebats @giraffehippy @anythingforjtk @lipstickitty @pinkandsleepy1934 @gretavansara @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @milkgemini @violet-hayes @Lyndz2names @edgingthedarkness @twistedmelodies @gretasfallingsky @thetroublegetssoloud71 @earthgrlsreasy @starcatcher-jake @sarakay-gvf @a-lanterninthenight @ignite-my-fire

[nescaveckwriter]

Just One More🌟

Line: Please be quiet, I haven't had enough coffee yet, to deal with this 😱 will be in bold

A/N: YAY! Yet another one done for @jacklesversebingo 🐞 ... I heard the song from 'Little big town' and it was just too perfect, I had this idea, and well it ran away with me . 💕 I sure do hope y'all enjoy this ...💕

Warnings: 18+ Only! Some language🫣, angst,😱 heartbreak,🥺smut.🥵

Characters: Beau Arlen x Female Reader.

Cover: Created by me. Also images from Pinterest and Canva.

Words:2464 😅

The smell of freshly brewed coffee, fills the air, the brownish - gold liquid getting poured into the white cup, stirring in a few drops of milk, as the mug touches your lips, the liquid warms the inside of your mouth, the bold, bitter taste awakening all your senses, almost swirling around the liquid before swallowing, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to hold out reality a little longer, rubbing your fingers over the printed logo, 'M...R...S' a smirk, on your lips, regretting that you took the mug of the set of two 'Mr. & Mrs.' mugs, gold  lettering, like the wedding bands, you were so excited the day you picked it up from the little décor shop, on your honeymoon, looking back now, it seems like a  lifetime ago. The footsteps, coming from the guest bedroom, let's your eyes flung open, revealing the half-open boxes stacked everywhere.

The deep Texan, in his voice, almost echoing through the half packed up house, "Morning" he clears his throat "Uhmm, how do we..." Before he could finish his sentence, you look at him, your eyes throwing darts at his green-hazel eyes. "Please be quiet, I haven't had enough coffee yet, to deal with this"

A little sarcastic giggle escapes his lips, "oh yeah! Well we'll have to deal with this sometime"

You get up out the chair, standing straight up, but your husband, well soon to be ex-husband still towering over you, revealing how much smaller you are than him. "I said, I don't want to deal with this right now, can't I just have one last quiet morning in our... Uhmm in this house"

Irritation evident in his voice "listen, I just want this to be over so that we can go on with our lives"

"Well so sorry, I'm taking so much time, to just pack everything up and throw away the life we built" you hissed

"Excuse me! We both made the decision to get a divorce"

 You voice barely audible "yeah I know" swallowing the emotion in your voice "I just got back from my shift at the hospital and I just need to freshen up first, then I will help sorting through the stuff okay"

His voice soft, "how was your shift?"

As you put the coffee mug in the kitchen sink you whisper "it was okay, we lost a patient today, bad car accident"

His eyes saddened as he knows how much it affects you "I'm so sorry darl..." He stops himself before finishing his sentence.

You just walk away, towards your once shared bedroom, knowing he most probably wanted to say darling, the little pet name he always used for you.

As you get into the shower, letting the hot water run over you, you let go of the hold on the floodgates behind your eyes, sobbing frantically now, holding your hand over your mouth, so that you can dampen the noises, your body shaking, as your mind drift, to the events of the past few weeks, you and Beau both agreed to get a divorce, the two of you got so busy with every day life, that the two of you started to drift further and further away, its so ironic the same jobs that brought the two off you together, is also tearing you apart.

The two of you met, while he came in, with a knife wound to his arm, and as you treated him, well it was love at first sight so too say. As you fall down, cradling your knees as the water runs over you, recalling the years you've been together, you always thought getting a divorce at your age won't happen, but well your here now. The thing that breaks you, is no-one cheated, the two of you just fought all the damn time, and him being Sheriff and you being a ER doctor, working mostly night shifts, you were living past each other, when you got home, he's leaving for work, and when he gets back home, your leaving for your shift.

You can't even recall the last time you two kissed, never less touched. You were so in love, so passionate and now all that has gone too hell. Getting up, and stepping out of the shower, opting out for a pair of your favorite worn out jeans, with a old t-shirt, not realizing it's one of his shirts, but hey, it's already on you, so what the heck. Throwing your hair into a messy bun, you don't real seem to care how homeless you look as your heart already feel homeless.

Glancing through your bedroom, everywhere boxes labeled his and hers, as you two are going to put your house up for rent and then split the profits between the two off you. As you take the bottle of perfume, spritzing it in the nape of your neck and some on your wrist, a small smile forms on your lips as you remember, Beau gave it to you for your birthday last year, he always did take such notice in the smallest of details. But that memory crumbles quickly as you see the stack of divorce documents, on your dresser, both of you agreed to sign it when you where done sorting everything in the house.

You rush down the stairs, furious and determined to get this over and done with, unsure of how much your heart can handle. Peeking through the living room, you don't see him anywhere, then you catch a glimpse of his brownish hair getting tossed in the wind as he sits on the porch with a cup of coffee, you always did like the way the moonlight danced in his eyes, the way the little garden lights revealed his freckles, oh damn you love his small freckles, that stained his cheeks and his nose, and not too even talk about his perfectly kissable lips. What the hell is wrong with you, your about to divorce that man. You just turn around and walk towards the living room, starting to sort through some stuff.

Getting up out of the wooden chair, holding the mug in his hand, his rough calloused fingers running over the lettering 'M...R' , his eyes squinting as he recalls the day you got that, on your honeymoon.. well that and books, both off you liked too read, but well there weren't much reading done those two weeks, he was too busy exploring every single part of your body. As he peeks into the house, seeing the way your kneeling, looking through what seems to be picture albums, he can't help but to admire the way your body fills out his shirt, the way you've got your hair up with loose strings off hair, framing your beautiful face and neck, a smile tugging at his lips, as he recalls how ticklish you were as he placed loving kisses, sending shivers down your spine. The sound of you giggling always made him feel alive, you made him feel alive, made him feel whole and now, well now his left with a hole in his heart.

Dammit what's the matter with him, his about to divorce that woman, how can he feel this way, is it just the memories, of your shared home, your shared love, why did all of these feelings have to rush back, how is he suppose to just simply act like he wants this, because he sure as hell does not want too loose you, but he loves you too damn much to not give you what you want, a chance too be happy again. So he'll go through with the divorce, knowing both of you said that's what needed to be done, so he just wants this over and done with, he can't stand being in your presence and not kiss you, not hold you, not tell you how much he loves you.

Spending the rest of the hours in an awkward silence, as the two of you sort through the memories that was build. But it's you who breaks the silence, kicking a empty box on the ground "it's 2 in the morning, I'm going to bed"

He's not really sure why he was so irritated by your comment but he started snapping at you "what? we should finish this, now"

Your jaw drops, you roll your eyes "excuse me! I'm tired" you bite your lower lip, but then decide to say it anyway "I'm tired of pretending that it's fine being in the same room as you"

A smirk on his plum lips "oh, its that bad being around me?" 

Crossing your arms in front of you "you said it, I didn't" 

Shaking his head "Woman you are driving me crazy"

"Oh yeah! Well you are driving me insane" you snap back

He strides closer towards you, his deep husky voice "is that the best you can come up with"

Throwing your arms up in the air "why do you want to make me angry" her voice brittle "is this what you want, me breaking down in front off you"

For a few seconds there was a softness in his eyes, but then his jaw hardens again "you have no idea what I want woman"

Enraged now "just leave it, all of this take what you want and give the rest away, I don't give a damn anymore, I'm done, with this, with you, with us, with everything"

He can't help but to examine the way your lips move, when you scream at him, he always did find you very sexy, as you were furious, going on about something, the way your whole body moves as your anger took over you, the way your hips swayed, when you'd explain what he did wrong, but by then you've lost him, he was too busy inspecting every little nose crinkle, every movement you made. Without any warning he cups your face, his lips crashes against yours. When he finally pulls away, both off you trying to catch your breath. For a few seconds you just stood there, your voice breathy "we... we can't do this" you turn around, but he grabs ahold of you, holding you in his arms, your back against his chest, his hot breath by your ear as he whispers "darling, tell me you don't want me, and I'll let you go" it send shivers down your spine. 

Merely a whisper that escapes your lips, "kiss me Beau, as if you never stopped loving me" as his fingers trail down your neck, raking the loose hair away, through the kisses he places down your neck, to your collarbone, his fingers sliding the t-shirt over your shoulder, his lips, trailing against your skin, a low roar escapes his lips "I never did stop loving you darling"

Those words coming from him, makes you turn around, looking up towards his eyes, searching those hazel-green orbs, for any indication, how he truly feels. Placing your hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble of his beard underneath your touch, you know you're probably going to regret this in the morning, but your fingers trace down to his lips, as if you want to take in this work of art. Standing on your tippy toes, leaning in so that you can taste his lips, just one more time. 

He claims your lips, as if he was starving, your tongues doing a passionate dance, his right hand holding the back of your neck, and his left hand holds on to your lower back, as he pulls you in even closer, not breaking the kiss once, your hands raking through his hair, as you want him closer, closer than ever before. He pushes you against the wall, tugging at the hem of your shirt, helping him to remove the clothing, through the kisses, and heartbeats racing, his hand roams your body, picking you up as you wrap your legs around his waist, but as he makes his way towards the couch, not breaking the kiss, he knocks over a stack of boxes, making him stumble and come to a fall, you lay on top off him, both of you laughing so hard it echoes through the house, its the first time in a long time that this house have heard so much laughter, he pulls you in for yet another kiss, and as you two lay there on the floor in front of the fire place, exploring each other as if its for the first time, not saying much, just sweet little moans, and whimpers escapes your lips, as your bodies does the talking for you. Not really sure, when but sometime during the early morning hours, both of you have fallen asleep, entangled, skin on skin, wrapped in each other's love. 

You've woken up, by his calloused fingers running up and down your back, your head on his chest, slightly lifting your eyes too study his face, his glancing up towards the ceiling, a smile on his lips, his eyes almost sparkling, as he realizes your awake, he looks down at you, placing a kiss on your forehead, "Morning Darling" you smile as you sweet voice greets him "Morning babe"

He starts laughing a little "so last night happened" you mockingly hit his chest, "Not funny, were supposed to get a divorce" 

He looks at you, eyes filled with love "about that! I don't want to divorce you, I want to be your husband, forever like we vowed" 

Stunned "what! I thought you wanted this"

"No, somewhere during yesterday I realized, I still love, you. No! that's a lie, I never did stop loving you"

A smile forming your lips "Neither did I, I was so frustrated, I wanted you, this , us our house, but I was too afraid to say it."

Sitting upright now, taking you hands in his "Darling, that's what I want, I want us too, we can work it out, we can get through this can't we?"

Pulling the throw, a little tighter over your body, as the crisp morning air, makes you shiver a bit. "Babe I think we can, we should just make time for each other."

Nodding his head, making his longer brownish hair fall in front of his eyes, a smile forming on his plum lips, revealing the age lines around his eyes, "Yes my sweet darling, I agree, but what do you say we tear up those divorce papers, and give the two of us just one more try"

A laugh escapes your lips "Yes, a million times yes. I love you"

Leaning down to place a kiss on your lips, this time, gentle little kisses as, he whispers through the kisses I.... Love... You... Too... Darling"

You can't help but too smile through the kisses knowing your heart aren't homeless no more, your home in your husbands arms. As the two of you come up for some air, you glance at the boxes stacked everywhere, half of the house is packed up, you smile at your husband, "babe, we just have to do one more thing!"

Confused he looks at your beautiful face, "Yes my darling, and will that be."

Laughing now, "we are going too spend over off weekend unpacking and moving back into our home"

A mischievous grin on his face "Please be quiet, I haven't had enough coffee yet, to deal with this" 

The two of you burst into laughter, taking in each other, knowing there's a lot of work to do, not just the unpacking but the rebuilding of your lives together. But with your husbands hand interlacing yours, you know that it's possible, anything is possible, with the person you love the most, by your side, ready to fight for your marriage and content in knowing you love each other, you sat there with your head resting on his chest, as you watch the fire place , the way the flames dances in a fiery passion after it's ignited, brings you nope, knowing, just one more try is all you need.  

[black-arcana]

NIGHTWISH's TUOMAS HOLOPAINEN Finds The Traditional Pop Song Structure 'Tedious And Boring'

In a new interview with Benni of Thomann Music, NIGHTWISH keyboardist and main songwriter Tuomas Holopainen spoke about his knack for writing long songs that do not follow the traditional format for radio-friendly singles. He said (as transcribed by BLABBERMOUTH.NET): "We've been doing things this way for almost 28 years now, so why the hell would we change anything at the moment? But, yeah, it's really tedious to me that you have to do a song like under four minutes all the time — it has to have a chorus, it has to talk about somebody's love life or broken relationships. It's just tedious and boring to me. There is a time and place for those songs as well, but if you have a story you want to tell, and it needs some time to be told in a proper way, you just take your time and the song lasts however [long] it needs to last. As simple as that."

NIGHTWISH's latest album, "Yesterwynde", arrived on September 20 via Nuclear Blast. It marks the band's tenth studio LP, following on from the release of "Human. :II: Nature." in 2020.

Five months ago, Tuomas told Kerrang! magazine about the new album's first single, "Perfume Of The Timeless": "When we had the first meeting with Nuclear Blast, talking about the new album and singles, I told them the first single will be a song called 'Perfume Of The Timeless' and it's eight and a half minutes long and the chorus comes in at 3:30. And they were, like, 'Perfect!' I think that has to do with the fact that we have a long legacy. You know, we can do whatever we want, and I do, but it says something that we can do that, when I heard that for Spotify it's good to have the vocals start after 15 seconds, or people skip it; they don't have the attention span anymore."

Holopainen previously said about the new NIGHTWISH LP: "'Yesterwynde' took more time to make than any previous NIGHTWISH album. The new album was intensively worked on for three and a half years. My ambition and piety really skyrocketed, and I just couldn't let go of the creative process — and didn't want to. Along the way, 'Yesterwynde' became both an exhilarating obsession and a comforting haven for me. All aspects of the making — compositions, lyrics, arrangements, cover art, videos, mixing and so on — were given more attention than ever before."

The lyrics of "Yesterwynde" deal with large-sized universal themes: memories, mortality, humanism, time and much more. "The new album is the conclusion of the trilogy — textually, it follows in the footsteps of its predecessors 'Endless Forms Most Beautiful' and 'Human. :II: Nature.'," Holopainen said. "At the same time, 'Yesterwynde' is the band's most lyrically driven album: our music has never been so 'married' to the lyrics. So here's a tip: if something in the composition puzzles you, the words might clear it up."

"For me, one of the key lines is 'we are because of a million loves' — taken from the song 'Perfume Of The Timeless'," he continued. "Each of us is part of an unbroken chain that stretches back billions of years. If even one of your ancestors had died too young — mauled by a cave bear, for example — during this incredibly long period of time, you would never have been born. In other words: our existence is such an unfathomable privilege."

What does the term "yesterwynde" mean? Tuomas said: "It describes a feeling that cannot be found in any human language. That's why we had to invent a whole new word. The album is supposed to open that feeling to the listener."Photo credit: Tim Tronckoe (courtesy of Nuclear Blast)

[kennedy-brooke]

Dress pt. 2

George Daniel x (Fem)Reader

Summary: You’ve been best friends with George Daniel for as long as you can remember, but your relationship has always suggested something more. The pining and waiting quickly becomes too much to handle, and you finally decide that something has to be done. A night out with your friends is the perfect excuse for you to wear the dress you bought, with the only intention of having him take it off.

Part 1

heavily based on the song dress by taylor swift

Word Count: 14.4k

a/n: hello again, lovely people - it's here!! The second half is all yours. i know it's much longer than part 1, but this is without a doubt my favourite part and im so excited for you all to read it. WARNING!!! there is heavy smut in this part!! 18+ MDI im not joking. I feel like i need to drown myself in holy water after this one - its complete and utter filth for 3.6k words and I have no idea where it came from. i hope you very thoroughly enjoy it!! mwah xxx

He is miserable. 

Completely and utterly miserable. 

George had come in with the rest of the band and made his way to the bar, making sure to sit in a spot with a clear view of the club’s entrance. 

He’d hoped to catch you as soon as you walked in, so he made himself comfortable, ordered a drink, and pretended like he wasn’t watching the door. 

But then this girl came along - he couldn’t remember her name if he tried - and sat next to him, fully blocking his once clear line of sight to the door you would be walking through any minute. 

She had immediately sat down and started talking, laying the flirting on thick and trying to get his attention - it just hasn’t been working. 

It isn’t her fault; she’s not awful to look at and he’s sure that she is probably a really nice girl - but she just isn’t you. 

You, his best friend, his Darling, who he is absolutely completely in love with. 

He’s felt this way for a while now, it’s not exactly anything new, but it’s been recently that George has actually come to terms with all of it. 

He loves you. Loves your laugh and the way you don’t hesitate to quip back at Matty. Loves your smile and the way it lights up the room. He loves the way you play with the rings on his hands, which is the reason he started wearing them in the first place - though if you asked him he would wholeheartedly deny it. 

George is in love and all he really wants is to see you. It’s been two very long months without your presence and it was during that time that he came to the conclusion that he had to do something. He has to tell you. 

His feelings are inescapable, and at this point he isn’t even going to try pretending that he saw you as just a best friend. 

The longing George felt over tour made him decide to fully fuck the consequences - he is going to tell you how he feels, because he has never felt this way about anyone before. And if, by some chance, he’s read the situation wrong and he gets burned? At least he was electrified. 

He had wanted to be there to greet you when you got here, which is why he sat at the bar in the first place. 

But this girl. She just showed up and will not leave. 

He doesn’t want to be a dick and just leave her by herself, but she just keeps talking. She’s flirting, and he’s not showing any interest, yet she still keeps going. He’s not even attempting to listen to her right now, too busy trying to see around her head and catch a glimpse of the door, but she isn’t taking a single hint. 

She keeps going on about the band, talking as if she’s everyone’s best mate and has known them for ages - even though George swears he’s never seen her before in his life. 

It's in the middle of his internal monologue and declaration of love that she directs a question at him that he actually has to answer, effectively breaking him out of his head. 

“Oh my god, do you remember?”

He blinks at her, “Remember what?”

She giggles, leaning forward and laying her hand on his forearm for the third time tonight. 

“Silly- remember that time when Matty completely fell over and Adam rolled his eyes at his antics and Ross turned around to laugh with John - while you just sat there at your set looking all stoic?”

He sighs before dryly remarking, “Which time?”

At his response, which was obviously sarcastic and did little to hide his annoyance, she lets out a loud, witch-like cackle. She clutches her chest and laughs like it was the funniest comment in the world - it wasn’t. 

George’s eyes go wide, watching in horror as she tries and fails to stop fake laughing. She leans forward as if she’s attempting to catch her breath, and reaches her hand out to grab onto his.

As soon as he catches on to what she’s going for, he moves both of his hands out of her reach - opting to tightly hold on to his glass instead. She, however, doesn’t take the hint and simply places her hand on his thigh.

George physically cringes and looks pointedly at her hand as he shifts his legs away from her.

Her eyes briefly flash with annoyance before she quickly covers it with a smile and reaches to take another sip of her drink.

George takes the moment of her distraction to try and see around her head, hoping to see you come in and have a valid reason to excuse himself. He genuinely doesn’t want to be rude - but she’s getting to be a bit much now.

As if she’s able to read George’s mind and has decided to amp it up even more, the girl reaches out again, for the fifth time, and flirtingly places her hand on George’s bicep… again.

George tenses his muscle immediately, unable to hide the physical reaction to her unwanted touch, but she seems to take it a different way.

She gasps, fucking full-on gasps, and squeezes his arm. “Oh my gosh, George, your muscles have gotten so big! You must be so strong-”

His eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

She squeezes his arm again. “You’ve just gotten so muscular, imagine what you could do with these arms.”

George swears that if she were to say one more thing, his eyes would pop out of his head. He huffs and subtly shakes her hand off - though he debates doing it and making it rudely obvious.

He looks around the room, looking to see if anyone else was witnessing this. Does anyone else hear her? 

George drags his hand down his face before he looks around the room again, specifically looking for any hidden cameras and waiting for Matty to jump out laughing. This has to be a prank. There’s no way any of this is real. Absolutely not.

He’s not sure where the others are- they had all gone their separate ways after arriving. Adam had left to go find Carly, Ross to find Waughy, and hell if anyone knew where Matty disappeared off to - likely to find someone to irritate with his presence (someone save that poor person’s soul).

Regardless, George needs an escape, he’s honestly not sure that he can take anymore of whatever this is.

Pulling out his phone, George unlocks it and goes to his messages and hovering his finger over your name. He could text you and see if you were here yet, but he doesn’t want to push you or rush you on a fun night out. 

He shakes his head, clicking on Matty’s name instead. Matty almost always has his phone on him, he’s more likely to answer than the other lads.

Before he has a chance to type anything out, he’s interrupted. 

“You lot are touring the UK soon, right?”

George blinks for a moment before nodding and looking down at his phone, “Huh? Oh, right - yeah we are.”

“Wow, touring for that long must be exhausting.” She rests her head on her palm, tilting her head and sighing.

He has a feeling he knows where this is going, and he really doesn’t want to stay for it - so he quickly types out a text to his mate.

Help

Mate seriously

Get me a glass of milk

He pauses for a moment before adding a short: 

Asap

It seems easier to just go along with whatever she’s saying at this point. Sighing, George responds with a simple, “It can be tiring sure.”

“God, and I bet it just gets so lonely being gone for months on end like that.”

George looks up and blinks at her - what? - before immediately going to message Matty again, not bothering to respond to her this time.

Milk me, seriously

Help

Now

She pauses as if she’s waiting for a response and when she realizes that he doesn’t plan on commenting, she continues on. “It must be hard settling down when you’re gone like that.”

He quickly looks around the bar, and for a moment he thinks he sees Matty’s curly mop of hair on the opposite side of the club - but he blinks and it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared. George sighs. There’s no way she’s about to suggest what he thinks she is - right?

“And I’m sure it’s just such a hassle finding normal groupies to pick up in order to have a good time.”

Wow. Okay, so she definitely is. He glances at his phone again - no response. That dickhead - what in the world could he be doing that’s so important right now. He sends another three messages.

Please

At this point come throw a glass of milk on me

So she will fucking fuck the fuck  o f f

George is staring holes into his phone, not daring to look up at her. The awkward silence is growing, and just when he thinks that she might be done, her voice grabs his attention again.

“Don’t think you’d turn down the company would you?”

He balks at her words. In what world- in what world has he done anything that has even remotely suggested that he wants to bring her on tour with him? That sounds like the worst possible outcome of this situation and he’d be damned if it ended that way.

Matty I’m spamming you for a reason

I know you’re laughing

Stop it

“I could come along, make sure you don’t get lonely.”

There’s no way George is even deigning to respond to that. He doesn’t hesitate to continue firing off messages to Matty left and right.

Can you actually be a good mate for once please

He tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling. In all honesty, he would give anything for it to open up and swallow him whole right now. Of course this happens to him, it’s just his luck. This is not how he wanted tonight to go.

“Gosh, and it’s been right cold weather lately…”

George doesn’t look at her, but he barely sees her try to move closer out of the corner of his eye and he immediately moves out of the way. He needs her to stop.

Matty

Matt

MATTHEW

You fuckhead why don’t you have your phone on you

WHY is he NOT ANSWERING. 

THIS IS WHY HANN IS BETTER THAN YOU. 

It feels like he’s been here for months, years even. She just keeps going, and just when he thinks she might be done - 

“I mean, we could wrap up tight together- keep each other warm…” Trailing off, she tilts her head and smiles what she probably thinks is a seductive smile.

She has to be kidding. Is his lack of response not enough? George feels like he might explode if someone doesn’t help him as soon as possible. WHERE IS MATTY.

I need you to

HELPMENOW

He’s desperate, he’s begging, and now he is pissed the fuck off. He angrily types out one more message and aggressively hits send before he slams his phone down. 

cunt. 

“I can think of a few other ways I could help keep you warm.”

George’s jaw drops. He’s not sure why she’s being so bold, but he is definitely not a fan and it’s getting old now. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s even responded to her and he sure as hell isn’t going to start now. 

He blankly stares at her, praying she gets the message and leaves. But she simply looks back at him, smiling and waiting for him to comment, scoff, huff, anything. He doesn’t, and the silence simply grows.

The awkward silence is broken by George’s phone buzzing, causing him to quickly scramble to grab it from its place facedown on the bar.

He unlocks his phone, only to be greeted by three messages from none other than Matty Healy himself.

Calm down mate lol

Help is on the way

You’ll thank me later xx

The fuck is that supposed to mean?

George stares at his phone for a moment before quickly looking around. Is this some joke? Does he think he’s funny? Because George is not laughing. At. All.

“I mean…” And just like that his irritation grows. Is she not done? The girl keeps pushing, not realizing that this may be George’s final straw. “...we would probably be sharing your bunk by the end of the tour, anyways.”

She shrugs, and George can feel his eye start to twitch. That’s it. He’s ending this now, forget about being a gentleman. He should have stopped whatever this was as soon as she sat down.

George opens his mouth to give her a piece of his mind, but he’s cut off by the feeling of a hand sliding across his shoulder to drape around his neck and the weight of a body being pressed into his side.

“I think he’s got that bit covered, thank you though.”

George stops breathing at the sound of the all too familiar voice, and looks up to be met with your side profile and a clear view of the tight-lipped smile you are currently sporting.

At the sight of you, George’s eyes light up and his entire demeanor changes. He lets out a sigh of relief, sagging against your side and giving you the biggest smile. “Hello, Darling”

The girl across from you bristles at the pet name, while you practically melt in place. God, did you miss him.

“Heya, G.” You lock eyes with him and you both get lost simply taking each other in - it’s been way too long.

Your small moment, however, is broken by the girl scoffing and crossing her arms. “I’m sorry, and who are you, exactly?”

There is zero hesitation as you respond. “His girlfriend.”

You bat your eyelashes and give the girl the widest, most passive aggressive smile you can manage.

George raises his eyebrows at your words and smirks to himself before wrapping his arm around your back and quickly tugging you into his lap by the waist. Your eyes go wide for a moment in shock before you manage to gather yourself and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Girlfriend, huh?” He leans in, whispering in your ear.

Your face heats up. You didn’t have a plan when you came over here - you were completely winging it and the title had slipped out of your mouth without much thought.

George however, seems unphased - if anything he seems quite content with your method of helping and is fully prepared to play into it. He nudges his nose at the side of your face, completely ignoring the presence of the girl seated next to the two of you.

To sell the idea that you are actually his girlfriend, you turn your head so that your nose meets his in an eskimo kiss - but you don’t go as far as actually kissing him on the mouth.

He brings the arm that’s not resting around your back over and places his hand on your thigh, lightly squeezing and giving you a dopey smile.

The girl makes an angry sound somewhere between a scoff and a whine, before standing up and storming her way back to the table full of her friends - most likely to rage about the dickhead who wasted her time and his bitch of a girlfriend.

You laugh at her retreating form, throwing your head back before resting it against George’s.

He wraps both arms around you, giving you an all-consuming hug that you had been desperately craving. “God, I missed you so much.”

You can’t help but smile at his words. “Missed you too, G. How’ve you been?”

George shakes his head. There’s no way that you’ve missed him half as much as he’s missed you. “I’ve been alright, yeah. Much better now that you’re here.”

“Well aren’t you just the flatterer tonight? C’mon, let’s get you over to the others.”

You stand up, bringing George with you and begin the walk across the club to your group’s table.

George takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around your lower back again and pull you into his side, holding you tightly against him. 

You let out a short laugh at his actions before looking up at him. “What are you doing, G?”

“I’m holding my girlfriend, is that a problem?” Your eyes widen, which George takes immediate note of and causes a smirk to dance its way across his face.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of the girl from before who’s currently glaring daggers into the back of your head. You can’t help but smirk at her reaction and it’s at that moment you decide to go all out with your little stunt.

You turn back to look at George, where the smirks are still present on both of your faces. “Nope, not a problem at all - but you should at least do it right.”

George’s smirk falls, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your words as you  reach down to cover his hand that’s placed on your waist with your own. Grabbing his hand, you slowly drag it down your waist and over your hip before moving it behind you and placing it firmly on your ass.

His eyebrows shoot up in suprise at your actions, “Of course- right, can’t be doing it wrong now can I?” But you can clearly see the barely masked mischief and excitement in his eyes as he gives your ass a squeeze.

You let out a squeak and take your hand off of his, leaning further into George’s side. He looks down and smiles at the sight as you keep walking. “How’d you know I needed help, anyway?”

“A little rat told me you needed saving.”

George rolls his eyes, “Yeah, well that rat will be getting an earful later. I was desperate and in a right panic when he wouldn’t respond.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh at that, “Oh, I know. I’d say this is better than getting a glass of milk thrown on you though, wouldn’t you.”

He huffs and pulls you further into him, “Definitely better than a glass of milk.”

Reaching over, you poke at his side and joke, “So, is Hann better than me? Is he still your favourite?”

You give him a wide, cheeky smile and you fully expect his response to be in the form of a witty or sarcastic remark - but you’re completely taken aback as he makes eye contact with you and simply says, “You’re always my favourite.”

Woah. You weren’t expecting that - but his eyes show the most genuine sincerity mixed with a look you can’t quite decipher, and you can tell he means it.

His words fluster you, and you can feel the heat crawling up your neck, but luckily you both arrive at your table before he has a chance to notice.

“Well, well, well - look who decided to join us.” 

The two of you look up at the sound of your friend’s voice and you huff out a laugh, knowing what’s about to come next.

“Yeah, no thanks to your rat ass. Answer your phone next time you dickhead.” George glares at Matty and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

Matty, however, is completely unphased. He smirks as his eyes dart between you and George before stopping and zeroing in on the placement of George’s hand that has yet to move since you arrived.

“Seems like my solution worked just fine.” Matty looks over at you and sends you a quick wink before looking back at George.

“Oh piss off with that-” George starts, feeling slightly less confident than he had felt before when it was just the two of you, but you cut him off.

“I’d say I did a fine job as your knight in shining armor, wouldn’t you G?” You send a glare (that lacks any heat) towards Matty before looking up at George and smiling.

George looks down at you, unable to stop the smile that appears on his face, and pulls you to lean further into him. “I guess you did alright-”

You cut him off by scoffing and pushing at his chest and away from him, to which George laughs and brings both arms to wrap around you. “I’m kidding, Darling. I’m kidding. You did a wonderful job.”

You huff at him and rest your head on his, letting out a soft laugh. George chuckles at your behavior and presses a kiss to the top of your head before he moves you both to go sit down.

By now, the pair of you have committed to the bit of acting like a couple, if only for the sake of convincing the girl from earlier - who happens to still be watching you both like a hawk. So after sitting down with your friends, you lean into George’s side and look up at him.

You’re met with his eyes, and you have a silent conversation. We’ve already come this far, we might as well have fun with it. 

And for the rest of the night, you both put on your best performance at being in love - though neither of you know it takes absolutely no effort and is much easier than the alternative of pretending you aren’t.

As the night progresses, you grow more handsy with each other - unable to stop yourselves.

It starts with George holding your hand while you are both sitting, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles. You’re locked in a conversation with Ross when George lifts your joined hands to his mouth, and softly kisses along your knuckles before bringing your hands back down and into his lap.

A little while later, he has one arm resting around your shoulders and is softly playing with your hair, while the other hand is firmly placed in the crease of your leg where your thigh and hip meet.

You reach down, grasping his hand in yours, and begin messing with the rings on his fingers. He looks over and smiles seeing your actions, having missed the habit of yours.

At one point, you’re basically sitting on top of George with how closely you are sat next to him. 

Throughout the night, you start increasing the physical affection from the level of innocent touches to that of kissing one another anywhere possible; but never on the mouth.

George places kisses along your jaw and up to your ear, where he feels your breath hitch as he whispers to you.

You turn towards him, bringing your hand up to his chest and subtly unbuttoning an extra button on his shirt. No one seems aware of your actions, no one except for George himself, and you feel him stop breathing as you lean forward and place a kiss on each collarbone.

Eventually, the two of you grow tired of sitting down. You stand facing the table, tugging George up to stand behind you. Reaching towards him, you grab his hands and pull him to wrap his arms around you. More than happy to comply, George holds you tightly to him as you lean back into his chest and he affectionately nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, making you let out a soft giggle before returning to the group’s conversation.

No one in the group dares to question your sudden open affection - not even Matty. They’re too scared to interrupt your moment, afraid that if they mention it or point it out, you’ll both stop and revert back to the way things were before tour.

So they stay quiet, observing the way you two look so perfect together, noting that you have yet to properly kiss, and praying that one of you grows a pair and finally makes a move.

When the opening your favourite song to dance to starts playing, you don’t hesitate to drag George to the dancefloor.

You glance over at George, smiling wide as the bass begins to reverberate through your body and you start moving. You sway your hips to the beat, throwing your hands into the air and dancing like there’s no one else around.

While you start sensually dancing to the music, George jumps at the opportunity to simply take in the sight of you.

You are absolutely breathtaking - George swears he’s never seen anything so beautiful. The way the lighting falls on your face, casting a halo around you, paired with the way your hips move side to side makes him feel weak at the knees.

And that dress- God, that dress. It was fucking gorgeous on you. George immediately thanks the universe for the existence of such a stunning piece of clothing. 

He admires the way it highlights your features perfectly, dipping and running over each and every one of your curves in the most alluring way. With your back to him, he’s able to take in the criss-crossed lacing of the back of your dress, following the strings’ pattern to the delicate tie lying beneath the back of your neck.

How easy it would be to tug at the string, to unlace the dress and let it fall to the floor so he could take you in without the covering black material.

You turn around, eyes finding his and you slowly make your way over to stand directly in front of him. With the new position, George ogles the way the dress’s neckline dips low, showcasing your breasts with its rim of gold.

You immediately take note of his stare, basking in his attention and the obvious lust dancing in his eyes. Sliding your hands up his chest, you bring them to wrap around his neck and pull yourself closer to his body.

George’s hands quickly fly to your hips, moving along as they slowly start swaying to the beat again. He watches the material move with your body, the cuts in the thigh of the dress allowing you full motion. Your thigh flashes through the gap in the material and George closes his eyes, slowly swallowing. 

The dress might be stunning, but George is certain that it would look even better lying on the floor - his floor, to be exact.

You turn around in his hold so that your back is to his chest, and George firmly grabs your hips and pulls your body flush to his. You throw your head back onto his shoulder as your hips move in sync.

Dancing, you feel a surge of confidence - whether it’s from the rush of your song playing or from the pulse of need that’s coursing through your body as a result of George’s stare, you aren’t sure. Regardless, you take that feeling and press your hips backwards, grinding against George’s front.

With your head by his neck, you feel his breath hitch and hear his light groan at the feel of your ass pressed into his now obvious erection. His grip on your waist tightens and he cant help it as his hips involuntarily buck into yours.

He leans down to your ear, so close that you can feel his breath as he whispers, “Careful, Darling.”

It sends a shiver down your spine and you’re unable to stop yourself as you smirk and push backwards again, pulling a soft grunt from his mouth before you move your body off of him completely.

Smirking you turn around to face him, still dancing and watching his face as you move in and place open-mouthed kisses along the side of his neck. You stretch your neck upwards, reaching his ear and pushing yourself that last bit closer so that you can nip the bottom of his earlobe.

As the song comes to an end, you lean in and let out a breathy whisper of “Or what?” before you pull away and slowly begin walking backwards to your table.

You send a wink George’s way and turn around completely, leaving George standing in the middle of the dancefloor staring after you in shock.

Oh, he is so fucked.

After being frozen in place for a moment, stuck watching the way your hips look as you walk away, George snaps out of it and quickly follows your retreating figure.

You get to the table first, not daring to look back after the stunt you just pulled. It’s only a minute later that an arm wraps around the front of your waist and pulls you backwards into a firm chest.

You don’t have to turn around to know that it’s George - of course you know it’s him.

There is no hesitation as you grab both of his arms and wrap them tightly around you, resting back into his hold with your hands still on his. George looks down at you, smiling softly before leaning forward and resting his chin on your head - savouring the feeling of you in his arms.

It’s at this time that you both happen to look up and see the girl from earlier look away from the pair of you embracing - where she must have been watching you since the dancefloor - and watch as she angrily gathers her things before storming out of the club, leaving her friends looking after her in confusion.

You and George stare at the door for a moment longer before looking at each other and bursting into laughter. It seems like your plan worked better than you originally expected. The only problem is - now your fun is over. 

She’s finally left and George doesn’t have to worry about her catching him in another painful conversation again, meaning you no longer have to play pretend at being his girlfriend. You can go back to normal now - except you really don’t want to.

Despite your reluctance, you know that you can’t stay this way forever. So you begin to move out of his hold, trying to get away before he decides to move himself - you aren’t sure that you could handle that rejection anymore.

You work your way out of his arms, and go to step away when George grabs your wrist. “Hey, no - stop. Where are you going?”

He furrows his eyebrows as he feels you freeze before turning around to meet his stare. Were you not having a good time? He knows that the girl left already, but he honestly thought you had been enjoying yourself as much as he was. He doesn’t want to stop.

“G, she’s gone and left now, you don’t have to do that anymore.” You try your best to keep an even, lighthearted tone, but your voice wavers and shows a sliver of the disappointment that you currently are feeling.

He sees it though, he always does, and that’s why he knows that it’s okay to keep this going. You want it too.

“So? Come back here.” George sits down and tugs you to him by your wrist, pulling you to sit directly into his lap before he leans down and speaks into your ear. “Doesn’t mean we have to stop.”

Your breath hitches at his words, but you make no move to stand up. Instead you sink further into his hold, resting your head against the side of his. George swears that he’s never smiled this much in his life as he leans his head fully into yours before turning it and placing kisses along your jaw and up the side of your face.

You both stop holding back after that.

Where you had been engaging in moderate displays of affection while you had been “pretending,” you are now both going full out.

You’re constantly touching each other in some way - on the leg, on the arm, around the waist, with your sides completely pressed against each other, with you placed unmoving from George’s lap.

You’ve also begun kissing - not on the mouth, no matter how badly you both want it to happen - but anywhere else that the two of you can reach. It’s not overwhelmingly disgusting or obvious kissing, but it is definitely there. 

The only place, other than the mouth, that George has yet to kiss you is your neck, instead opting to direct his mouth around your face, jaw, and hands. You, however, aren’t neglecting his neck in the slightest - in fact, it’s likely that he will have a mark or two or three (or more) by the end of the night if you keep it up.

The pair of you keep getting more handsy as the night progresses, which has led you to where you are now, sitting directly next to George.

You had both stood up to stretch your legs a while ago, and had since sat back down in your own respective seats rather than sitting on top of one another. As soon as you sat down, George’s hand found your thigh.

It was perfectly normal, especially for tonight, so you thought nothing of it. You simply watch him as he starts talking to Ross, unashamedly admiring his side profile.

You lean forward to place your elbow on the table and then rest your head in your palm, but the movement on your thigh causes you to immediately sit up straight and goosebumps to erupt across your skin.

George had begun running his fingertips back and forth along the outside of your thigh, slowly dragging them side to side and running them up and down the length of your thigh.

You are completely transfixed by the movement, your entire body heating up at his touch and it only seems to be growing worse by the second. You watch as he switches from using just his fingertips to placing the entirety of his hand on your thigh.

He starts moving his hand along the side of your thigh, now rubbing his large hand back and forth and sending a shiver down your spine at the feeling.

You look up, only to find him paying you absolutely no attention. He’s still completely invested in his conversation with Ross. You’re not even sure that he’s aware of what he’s doing.

It’s not until his hand moves up and over the top of your thigh, squeezing once before he begins running his hand along the top and inside of your thigh, that your stomach starts to flutter and a hot surge of need pulses through your body.

It’s not scandalous - he’s not making any move to reach under the hem of your dress, hell, he’s not even looking at you - but, god if it wasn’t doing something to you right now. If he doesn’t stop soon you’re going to completely short circuit.

Leaning over, you place three kisses up George’s neck before you pull away and go to stand up. You are going to need a drink if he keeps this up, and you haven’t had a chance to talk to Matty after you left to go save George.

George watches you as you head to the bar and grab another drink before you walk back to the table and stand next to where Matty is sitting with Adam. Missing your presence, George excuses himself and makes his way over to you. 

He comes up behind you with every intention of attaching his lips to your neck for what he realizes is the first time tonight, and it’s as he leans down that he sees it.

He’s not sure how he missed it in the first place - the only reasoning he can think of being that he was too entranced by every other part of you to notice the familiar gold chain hanging around your neck. 

But there it was, laying nicely around your neck and matching your dress perfectly. It stuns him, completely freezes him in place.

He vividly remembers leaving it for you that night. You had mentioned the necklace more than once, both while sober(ish) and while drunk - and he selfishly had wanted to leave you with something to remember him by, in hopes that he could stand a chance once he got back. So he left it for you to find when you woke up the next morning. 

But never in a million years did he think you would genuinely keep it, let alone wear it out tonight.

George can’t help the urge that comes over him as he reaches out. He grabs the back of your neck and spins you around to face him, paying no attention to the fact that there are other people around and that he’s interrupted your conversation with Matty.

The action surprises you, and you let out a small gasp. “G, what-”

“Is this my necklace?” George slides his hand from the back of your neck and slowly runs his fingers down along the chain before taking it in his fingers.

You freeze for a moment, not expecting the question and you panic for a second. “Yeah - yes. It is.”

And then you wait, not knowing how he might react and unable to read his face to figure it out. George simply stares at you, a look in his eye that you actively choose not to read into as he looks at you - all of you. You are so beautiful. 

He pulls on the necklace and brings your face closer to his in the process, similar to the way you had done it on that night two months ago. His eyes bounce back and forth between yours before glancing down at your lips. “You were right, Darling.”

Your chest feels tight looking into his eyes. You break away and look down at his lips and breathe out a soft, “About what?” 

He looks at your lips for a moment longer and lifts his eyes to look directly into yours. “It does look better on you.”

And before you have a chance to respond, he tugs on the necklace again - closing the distance between your faces and crashing your lips into his.

It’s not soft, but it isn’t unbearably rough either. It’s passionate and all consuming, and neither of you can believe that you’ve waited this long to do it.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, thudding so violently that you swear it might burst out of your chest all together. The kiss starts slow, your lips moving in sync; but as he drags his tongue along your bottom lip, all gentleness is thrown to the wind.

His tongue slips past your lips, and your hands immediately move up to the back of his head, pulling his face impossibly closer to your own.

The hand holding the necklace shifts up to lay securely around your throat, and George's other hand slips around your waist to pull your hips against his. His grip on your throat tightens ever so slightly, causing you to let out a whine and tighten your grip on his head. 

The kiss continues on, all teeth and lips and tongue, trying to devour each other and make up for lost time.

Somewhere in the background you can hear your friends whooping and hollering - Matty being the loudest, shouting "Get a fucking room" with a wide smile on his face while everyone else whistles and cheers

It's only the need to breathe that forces you two apart, gasping for air and resting your forehead on his.

You let out a breathy laugh and look up as you trail slow kisses from the point of his jaw to the corner of his mouth, where you lightly nip at his bottom lip before catching both his lips in yours for another kiss.

His hand on your throat tightens again before he drags his hand down your body and slides both hands over your ass, where he pulls you in and slightly grinds into you.

You gasp into his mouth, causing him to smirk before he takes control of the kiss again. He slips his tongue into your mouth and groans as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. 

All you can think of is him. His lips. His hands. His face. His body. Nothing but him. Just George.

All he can think of is you. Your eyes. Your mouth. Your hips. Your neck. Only you. Just Y/n.

It’s not until Adam clears his throat, catching both of your attention, that you break apart again.

“As much as I hate to be the one to break it up, I feel the need to remind you that we are in a public place - and I dont know about everyone else, but I’d rather not watch you fuck on the table.”

The group bursts into a round of laughter as they watch you hide your face in George’s neck, feeling his chest move as you both laugh along with everyone else.

Matty, being the ass that he is, can’t help himself as he gives his own input. “I don’t know Hann, it could be fun.”

It sends the group into another round of boisterous laughter, which only grows as George lets out a quick, “Fuck off Matty.”

You keep laughing to yourself as you push your face further into George’s neck, making absolutely sure that no one is paying attention to you and that no one is able to see your face. Once you’re sure that the coast is clear, you boldly lick a stripe up George’s neck until you reach the bottom of his ear.

You feel his breath hitch as you whisper his name. “Hey, George?”

“Hmm? Yes, Darling?” He turns his head to look at you.

“I’m getting tired.” You pull away from his body to look up at him, and watch as his face scrunches slightly in confusion.

“You are?”

“Yeah,” you reach forward and grab hold of his belt, using it to softly pull him into you so that your faces are back to being only centimetres apart. You lean forward and make sure to look him directly in the eyes as you speak the words into his mouth, “I think you should take me home.”

George’s demeanor shifts and you watch as his eyes darken a bit before he’s spinning you around and moving you away from the table and across the club. “Right, yeah - yes. Let’s go. Home. Right now.”

He doesn’t spare a glance or a goodbye to your group, but you swear you hear Matty call out, “Don’t forget to wrap it!” before George is speed walking to the exit and practically shoving you through the door in his hurry to get you home and out of that damn dress.

You rush to the corner, where George calls over a taxi and helps you get in, quickly following behind you. He slides over to the middle seat and leans forward, giving the driver his address before he leans back into the seat and places his hand on your thigh. You won’t be doing anything in the taxi, you don’t want to make the driver uncomfortable, but the both of you are beyond anxious to get home. 

The tension has been building for far too long. All of the silence and patience, the pining and desperately waiting - it’s all been leading up to tonight.

• • •

The taxi ride back to George’s flat flew by and before you know it, the both of you are out of the vehicle and on each other, kissing like your lives depended on it.

You hurry your way to the door of his flat, not breaking apart until George has to fish his keys out of his pocket.

He pulls them out and fumbles through his different keys, trying to find the one to his flat - but he’s having a hard time. His breathing catches as you wrap your arms around his waist from behind him and begin to place kisses along his clothed back. God - where is that fucking key.

Finally, he finds it and wastes no time in unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. George moves to the side so that you can walk past him as he goes to remove the key.

You smile at him, unwrapping your arms from around his body, and you move to go inside. You barely have one foot past the door’s threshold when George comes directly behind you, closing the door and ushering you into the room.

Before you can blink, George is in front of you. His mouth is hot on yours as he slams your bodies back into the closed door, pinning your arms above your head with one hand while the other travels down your side to your waist, pulling your body against his.

He groans into your mouth as you buck your hips forward, grinding down on the thigh he’s placed between your legs.

His body presses further against yours as the hand holding your arms releases its hold. He keeps his mouth on yours as he slowly drags his hand down your arm and moves it along your shoulders before settling it snugly around your neck.

George lightly squeezes his hand around your throat and uses his other arm to pull your lower body further into him, causing you to let out a drawn out whine into his mouth.

Bringing your hands down, you cup them around his jaw and hold his face to yours as you kiss him again before pulling away, completely out of breath.

George doesn’t stop though, instead he begins kissing along your jaw and works his way down your neck, making your breathing stutter.

“George-” You breathe out, trying to get his attention.

He doesn’t stop his actions, simply letting out a rough “Mmm,” against your neck.

You need him to listen to you though, so you softly pull at his head so that he can see your face. “George, wait.”

He stops immediately this time, bringing his hand up from your neck to cup your jaw, rubbing his thumb along your cheek. “What is it, Darling?”

“If we do this- it changes things.” You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but he doesn’t miss a beat.

He leans down and presses a soft, slow kiss on your lips. “I know.”

You release a breathy sigh as he moves his mouth down and to the other side of your neck. “I don’t want to be your best friend, I don’t want you like that.”

“I know.”

And with that you push away from the wall and into him, your lips colliding as George starts walking backwards to his bedroom. He pulls you with him, leaving no space between your bodies and refusing to break away from you. You bump into furniture and walls, stumbling down the hall and into his room, where he finally breaks away from you.

He pulls back and looks at you, taking in the way your hair is disheveled from his hands, the way your lips are swollen and your eyes are glazed over in lust - both of which he’s sure that he mirrors perfectly.

He can’t help himself as he goes back in for another kiss, speaking directly into your mouth. “God, you are so gorgeous.”

George gives you no chance to respond before he’s on you again. “And this dress - so fucking stunning darling.”

Your breath catches as he moves to the side of your face and nips at the bottom of your ear. Your words come out far too airy, “I bought it for you.”

George smirks, “Yeah? Wanted to look all pretty for me, Darling?”

“Yeah- yes.” You breathe out. “Only bought it so you could take it off.”

“Is that right, baby?” Your knees go weak at the pet name. “I should get to it then, yeah? Say thank you for all your hard work.”

George moves in, face coming so close to yours that if you were to move forward your lips would touch, and runs a finger along the necklace hanging around your neck before reaching behind you. He slowly pulls the string behind your neck, undoing the tie holding up your dress.

He unlaces the back of your dress, holding your eyes as he does, before he leans back so that he can see your body properly. 

“You were so good to me tonight, Darling- saving me and getting all dressed up.” George moves his hand to the neck of your dress and looks up at you. “Is this okay?”

“Yes- please.” 

Not needed anything more from you, George grabs the top of your dress and begins slowly dragging it downwards - intently taking in every new inch of skin that is exposed to him.

As the material passes over your breasts, he pauses and visibly swallows, looking up to make eye contact with you as he leans forward and attaches his mouth to your left nipple. You gasp, placing your hand on his head as he kisses at your chest.

It doesn’t take long for him to resume pulling your dress down, relishing in the way it slides down your body and over your curves. He holds his breath as he moves the material past your hips, watching the way the black fabric shows slight resistance before falling completely to the floor and pooling at your ankles, leaving you in only your lacy underwear.

He stares, frozen in place for far too long. George’s lack of movement, or breathing for that matter, causes you to panic - feeling self conscious with the way his eyes are glued to you.

You bring your hands up, trying to hide yourself from his view; but his hands shoot out immediately to grab at your wrists and hold them away from your body.

“No.” His eyes sweep your body once more before he grabs your waist and starts walking you backwards to the bed, leaving your dress in the middle of the room.

“Look at you, so fucking pretty.” The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you stop moving, looking up at George before reaching over and tugging at his shirt.

“You have too many clothes on.” He smirks at your insistence before his hands find the hem of his shirt and he pulls it over his head in one swift motion.

“Better?” George looks down at you, raising an eyebrow at you.

You stare at him, ogling his chest. Sure, you’ve seen him shirtless before, but this is different. He’s shirtless for you. You smile up at him, “Much.”

He places his hands on your hips, not even trying to hide the way he looks at your chest. “You know, I really do think some thanks are in order.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

“Oh, yes - you were so perfect for me tonight, Darling. I want to make you feel good.” George’s hands begin to slowly run up and down your sides, trailing his fingers along your form and causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. “You gonna let me make you feel good? Gonna let me see you?”

He leans forward, running his nose along your jaw. “Want to have you shaking for me.” He brings his right hand back up to your throat, lightly wrapping it around your throat as he uses his thumb to tilt your jaw upwards - urging you to look at him.

You let out a soft sound at the action, your underwear growing wetter by the second.

With his hand on your throat, he feels as you audibly swallow, resulting in the wide smirk that makes its way across his face. “Oh Darling, I’m going to make you feel so good. Nobody will ever compare.”

George uses the thumb that is still placed under your chin to reach up and pull down on your bottom lip, moving his face closer to yours and stopping just before your lips meet.

You reach out, slipping your fingers into the waistband of his pants before tugging his hips completely against yours. “I’m hearing a lot of talk G, maybe you should put your money where your mouth is.” 

Your hands are shaking from holding back from him - you can’t take the anticipation anymore.

George simply smirks at you before grabbing behind your thighs, lifting you off the ground and throwing you back down onto the bed. You slide your way up the bed, propping yourself against the pillows and watching as George removes his belt and nothing more.

Slowly, he makes his way up the bed, stopping as his head meets your stomach. He places kisses traveling from one hip to the other, right above the waistband of your underwear, and smiles as he feels your stomach quiver at the touch.

He runs his hands along the outside of your thighs before bringing them up to the top of your underwear and slipping his fingers into the waistband. George glances up at you, waiting for your nod of approval before he drags the lacy material down your legs and throws them somewhere into his room.

Coming back to your body, he lifts your legs onto his shoulders and begins placing slow, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your right leg, starting at your ankle and making his way up to where you want him the most. When he reaches the top of your thigh, he switches legs, repeating the motions and making his way up your left leg.

This time, when he reaches the top of your leg, he grabs onto the insides of your knees and pulls them apart, exposing your sopping cunt to him.

At the sight, George lets out a loud groan, bringing a finger up to run through your folds. He doesn’t even notice as he mumbles out, “Such a pretty pussy.”

You let out a whine, “George, please.”

The sound of your voice is all that it takes for him to rush into action, finally caving in and licking a stripe directly between your folds, catching your clit and making you let out a loud gasp as you throw your head back into the pillows.

George wastes no time, diving into your cunt and eating it like a man starved. He slowly flicks his tongue up and down your pussy, before directing his attention to your clit - feeding off of the sounds coming from your mouth. His tongue slowly circles the bud before placing just the right amount of pressure in the perfect spot, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

The moan you let out is pornographic and you can’t stop your hips as they grind into his face. He never lets up, placing one hand on your hips to hold them in place. “Tastes so good baby,” he speaks directly into your cunt, slowing the movement of his tongue only so that he can bring his other hand up to meet his mouth.

With no warning, George slips a finger into you. “Oh my god-” Your words are cut off by your moan as he slowly starts thrusting his finger in and out of you, relishing in the sounds coming from your mouth.

He looks up and watches your face contort as he adds another finger, picking up his pace and attaching his lips back to your swollen clit. George has never been this turned on in his life, and is unable to stop himself from grinding down into the bed as he laps at your cunt.

You can feel the tension building within you, like a string pulled taught that is about to snap, and you cry out as you feel George curl his fingers inside of you, brushing against the perfect spot.

He picks up his pace and repeats the motion over and over again, thrusting his fingers in and out and sucking harshly at your clit. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Any and all thoughts in your head completely vanish as you chance a glance between your legs and lock eyes with George.

You can feel his smirk, your mouth falling open as you watch him completely devour your cunt. “George- oh fuck-” Your breathing stutters as you catch sight of him rutting against the mattress as he eats you out and you release a drawn out moan, hands flying down to grab at his head.

He groans against you, the vibrations adding to the stimulation, and without any warning the tension building in your stomach snaps and you are cumming on his face. Your back arches off the bed, thighs clenching tightly around George’s head, and in that moment George swears that he could die a happy death between your thighs.

His fingers and mouth continue their movements, gradually slowing down and working you through your high; not stopping until you begin whining and push his head away.

Pulling away from your sensitive cunt and he moves up your body, placing sloppy kisses as he makes his way to hover above your face. He takes in the sight of you and his dick twitches as he surveys your disheveled state. Bringing his hand to your mouth, he places the fingers that were inside you just moments before on your lips, dragging down your bottom lip and watching it fall back into place.

What he doesn’t expect is the way your hand grasps at his wrist, holding it in place as you open your lips and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and sucking on them - maintaining eye contact the entire time.

“Fuck.” The groan he lets out at the action is guttural as he swiftly pulls his fingers from your mouth, immediately catching your lips with his in a heated kiss. His tongue makes its way into your mouth, pushing his hips down and grinding against you.

You whine at the feeling and reach for his pants, undoing the button and pulling down his zipper. Shuffling off of the bed, George stands and has his pants off in a flash - not wasting any time before climbing back onto the bed with you.

You sit up, immediately reaching out for him as you meet his mouth half way and drag your lips across his cheek before making your way down his neck.

His breath catches and he reaches for your hips, soaking in the way your lips and tongue trace across his collar bones. The large tent in his boxers is becoming increasingly hard to ignore, and he thinks that he might die if he doesn’t find some relief soon.

Little does he know, that’s exactly what you intend to fix.

You continue kissing down his body, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses and licks along his chest, working your way down to his stomach and reaching the waistband of his boxers.

You lightly nip at the skin directly above his underwear, smirking now that it’s his stomach quivering before you reach up to drag your fingers along the elastic of his waistband.

Glancing up, your eyes meet his and he lets out a laboured sound, one that falls somewhere between a sigh and a whine. He looks fucked out and you haven’t even touched him yet.

“Can I?” You slide your fingers beneath the waistband and tug, the material slipping lower on his hips, but don’t move any further.

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m not asking if I have to,” You lightly trace a finger around the bulge in his boxers, enjoying the way he quietly gasps. “I’m asking if I can.”

He’s nodding before he can process what he’s doing, and you don't hesitate to slide the material down his legs, releasing his hard on as it bounces upwards and hits his stomach.

Your jaw drops at the size. Sure, you figured George would be big - what with his height and with the way the skinny jeans he used to wear never truly hid much - but seeing it in full? Nothing could have prepared you for the sheer sight of it. You were practically drooling.

George watches as you stare at his cock in shock and his hips squirm. He needs you to do something, anything - or he isn’t going to be able to hold back from completely wrecking you. 

Not that he didn’t plan on doing that anyway, he just wants to let you have your moment - and the idea of your mouth on him is enough to have him cumming before you’ve even done anything.

“Are you going to keep staring? Or are you going to-” Before George can finish his sentence, you wrap your hand around his dick and anything he wanted to say flew from his mind, instead coming out as a rough gasp. “S-shit-”

You pump your hand up and down a few more times before you can’t stand it any longer. You lean forward, looking up to hold eye contact with him as you lick a slow stripe along the underside of his cock, staring from the base and making your way to his tip - where you tease your tongue along the slit at the top.

George lets out a grunt, doing his best to stop himself from bucking into your face. He can’t bring himself to look away as you swirl your tongue around his tip, paying close attention to what makes him twitch or grunt.

You pull away just to gather the spit in your mouth and let it drip down onto him, using the extra lubrication to start pumping your hand around him at an even pace.

He throws his head back at the feeling of your hand around him, unable to look at you as your hand moves up and down, up and down, over and over again. Your hand tightens its grip and he swears, letting out a groan. 

You watch him, admiring the way he looks with his head thrown back. You squeeze your hand again and you revel in the way he has to roughly swallow.

Not slowing the movement of your hand, you lean forward again and take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue and sucking harshly, welcoming the salty taste of precum as it enters your mouth.

His head shoots up from its laid back position, eyes wide as he lets out a groan. “Holy fuck, Y/n.”

Something about the way he says your name, with the rasp of lust on his tongue, gives you the confidence to push your head further down - taking more of him into your mouth before pulling back for air.

You move down again, taking as much of him in as you can before you gag slightly, pulling a deep moan from George’s mouth. The sound is all you need to keep going, beginning to bob your head up and down.

George can’t believe this is happening. All of these years spent imagining this exact scenario and now it’s a reality - you are actually here, with his dick in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down while using your other hand to reach what you aren’t able to take in. 

He can’t stop the way his hips buck slightly upwards on a particular downward stroke and swirl of your tongue. You let out a loud moan around him, and he feels the vibrations in his gut. “Fuck, Darling- oh God, you’re mouth’s so- shit.”

His hand flies to your hair, gathering it into his hand and pulling as you continue bobbing your head. You moan again. “Yeah? Like when I pull your hair baby?”

You whine as he pulls at it again, and he groans. “God, feels so good- oh shit- don’t-”

You ignore his half-hearted protests as you slow your movements and press him further into your mouth, taking him all the way in, nose meeting skin, and swallowing around him to keep yourself from gagging.

George hits the back of your throat and chokes out a moan - he can’t do it anymore.

Before you can blink, George roughly pulls you off of him and flips your positions so that you are lying directly beneath him, his arms braced on either side of your head. 

“As fucking amazing as that was, I’m not done with you.” He grinds down against your dripping cunt. “I want to be inside of you. Now.”

You let out a whine, clutching at his shoulders as he grinds against you again - making both of your heads fall backwards at the friction.

“Please- George please. I need you.” You scratch along his shoulders and he shutters.

He smirks as he reaches over to the nightstand, quickly pulling out a condom. “Oh- you need me, now? What happened to all that talk?”

You scoff, far past the point of wanting to be teased like that - you are ready now, and you intend to make that clear. Reaching up, you snatch the condom from his hands, bringing it to your mouth and ripping it open with your teeth.

You toss the foil packet to the side and make sure to look George in the eyes as you ever-so-slowly roll the condom on. “Just fuck me, G.”

He groans at your words, and wastes no time lining himself up to your entrance. George looks up at you and smiles, “Yes ma’am.”

And then he pushes into you, slowly stretching out your pussy and making you both moan out.

“Oh fuck- George.” His pace is measured, using all of his restraint to keep himself from thrusting completely into you and possibly hurt you.

He works his way in and out of you, pushing slightly deeper with each forward movement until he’s completely inside of you - your pussy taking him to the hilt, your hips pressed directly into his.

He’s so deep inside of you that you whine out again, breathing heavily. He hasn’t even started moving yet. “Holy shit-”

“Christ, Darling- youre so fucking tight.” His muscles tense, trying not to rock into you until you are adjusted to his size and ready.

The pain quickly morphs into pleasure, and you clench down tightly around him. “Shit- don’t-”

“George, please- I need you to move.” You don’t have to tell him twice. He immediately pulls out of you, leaving only the tip in, before swiftly thrusting back into your cunt.

“Oh God,” you cry out - clutching at his shoulders and he starts moving in and out of you at a steady pace. 

He watches your face scrunching in ecstasy, your moans being music to his ears. He brings his hands up - one to grab tightly at your breast and the other to find its favourite place around your throat. 

He lightly squeezes the sides of your neck, and your jaw drops open - letting out a loud moan before snapping shut. He thrusts deeper at the sound, unable to help the immediate reaction.

George hovers over you, moving his hand from your breast and bringing it to your jaw and grabbing your chin. “Open.”

You immediately do as he says, opening your mouth and waiting in anticipation. He leans down and spits directly into your mouth, groaning at the way you immediately moan and swallow. “Good fucking girl.”

“George- fuck, faster- please.” You sound pathetic, you know it, but you can't find it in yourself to care as George immediately picks up the pace.

He’s pounding into your cunt, hand wrapped around your throat and eyes firmly on your chest, watching as your breasts bounce with each of his thrusts. He uses his free hand to lift one of your legs higher, allowing him to thrust deeper into you. “Fuck- You’re so good to me.”

Your moans grow louder at his words, loving the praise and wanting more. “George- oh my god-” You are cut off as you feel his fingers find your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

“Shit- the best pussy - god you’re - always the fucking best, Darling.” He feels you clench tightly around him and he quickens his movements on your clit, pushing you further to your release. “Gonna cum, babe?”

“Yeah, yea- oh fuck George please-” You feel it building, that tension in your gut. You can feel it in your toes and you start rolling your hips to meet his. He leans down, catching your lips in a messy kiss.

He barely pulls away, speaking into your mouth as he says, “Give it to me, Y/n. Cum for me.” 

It doesn’t take much more before you are arching off the bed for the second time tonight, wrapping your legs around George’s hips as he continues thrusting in and out of you, moving his fingers over your clit and working through your high.

You’re a moaning mess as he reattaches his lips to yours, tightening his hold around your neck again before completely removing his hand, opting to place both hands on either side of your waist.

You start coming down from your high, but you aren’t ready for this to be over and neither is he. His dick twitches as you begin grinding down against him, crying out at the feeling of his cock dragging against the walls of your sensitive cunt.

It takes two rolls of your hips before George can’t handle it anymore. His hands are shaking from holding back from you. He wants to give it all to you, and the way your hips are pushing and grinding against him tells him you want it just as badly.

He quickly pulls out of you and you whine at the loss of him before you’re letting out a loud gasp - hands flying outwards as he grabs your hips and swiftly flips you onto your hands and knees.

His dick throbs at the sight of your ass and bare back on full display for him. His hands come up to your ass and he groans, grabbing at the flesh and kneading it in his hands.

You press back into his hands. “George, please- I want it.”

“Yeah? You gonna take it all for me, Darling?” His hold shifts from your ass to your hips, keeping them in place as he grinds against your backside. “Think you can do it?”

“Yeah - yes. I can take it - want to take it all.” You’ve never wanted anything more.

He smirks at your words before leaning down over you, hands still on your hips as he starts at your ass and licks a long, slow trail along your spine. You shutter as you feel his tongue glide along your back and make its way over to your shoulder. As he reaches your shoulder, he bites down and draws out a gasped moan from your lips. His tongue slides over the marks that his teeth left, before he places a kiss there and moves to speak into your ear.

“Put your hands on the headboard. Now.”

You don’t hesitate to do as you're told, immediately placing your hands on the headboard and bracing yourself as you feel George reach down to position your legs further apart.

“Good?” He checks, running his hand up your back and allowing him to feel the way your breathing shutters with need.

“I’m good, G. Just do something-”

Your words are completely cut off as George grips your hips tightly and roughly thrusts into you - knocking the air from your lungs in a drawn out moan.

He doesn’t stop once, hips immediately finding and setting a punishing rhythm. He’s deeper than he had been the first time - allowing him to reach places no one had been able to reach before - and you can’t help the pornographic moan that comes from your throat.

The sound that comes from George’s chest is almost that of a growl - the feeling of your pussy gripping him so tightly, pulling him back in every time he pulls back, only spurring him to quicken his pace.

“Look at you, taking it - fuck, such a good girl.” He watches as his cock repeatedly sinks into you, coming out wetter each time he pulls away. 

The room is full of the sounds of skin meeting skin and your moans of his name, your bodies colliding over and over as he rams deeper into you.

With one particularly deep thrust, your grip on the headboard slips and you push your face into the pillows, unable to hold yourself up any longer. The new angle directs George to the sensitive spot deep inside of you and you cry out into the pillows, pushing your hips backwards to meet his thrusts with your own.

“Yeah? That the spot, baby?” You moan back in response, nodding your head into the pillows. He grips your hips so tightly that it’s likely to leave bruises, watching as your ass bounces against his hips. “That’s right, take that dick baby - shit - doing so good for me.”

George keeps one hand on your hip, while the other comes to rest on your back, pressing your top half completely into the bed and leaving your ass up in the air. He pushes down, pounding into your cunt with no remorse and groaning as he watches his cock disappear into you. “Fuck, look at your pretty pussy - like it’s made for me.”

He lets out a growl as you clench down around him and his pace stutters. With no warning, your third release of the night comes crashing over you - causing you to scream out. The pleasure is overwhelming.

“Fuck - shit - gripping me so tight, i can’t - oh god-”

George doesn’t miss a beat, pulling out and turning you over before pushing right back into your dripping cunt. He places all of his weight on you, clutching you to his body as his hips snap harshly against yours. “Im gonna cum- oh shit - im coming -”

He thrusts in one, two more times before his movements stop and he’s spilling into the condom with a raspy groan of your name.

His body relaxes into yours, wrapping his arms around you and cradling you to his body as if he couldn’t bear the idea of separating from you. He peppers soft kisses over your shoulders and across your face as your laboured breathing slows to a normal rate.

After a moment, George places his hands on either side of your head and pushes himself up, giving him the opportunity to look at you.

Your hair is a mess, you have the beginnings of dark marks along your neck and over your shoulders, your lips are swollen and wet with spit, and you’re unbelievably sweaty - but he’s never thought you looked better. He can’t believe that he gets to see you like this.

At the same time, you’re taking in the adoration in his eyes, the way his shoulders are scratched to bits, the way his lips lift at the corners of his mouth into a soft, small smile. He’s perfect.

While you both would love to stay in this position forever, you’re both painfully aware of George’s softening dick and the mess on your thighs. So with great reluctance, George sits up and pulls out of you - murmuring a soft apology when he sees your face scrunch up in a grimace. He gets off of the bed and you watch as he disappears into the bathroom.

Holy shit - did that really just happen?

It’s only minutes before George is walking back into the room, wet cloth in hand and condom nowhere to be seen.

He moves back to the bed, leaning forward and spreading your legs. He brings the cloth up, softly cleaning away the sticky mess on your thighs, placing kisses on your leg every time you wince from the overstimulation on your sensitive cunt.

Throwing the cloth into the trashcan by his desk, George crawls back into the bed and immediately pulls you into him, wrapping his arms around you and cuddling you into his body as he pulls the blankets over the both of you.

You place a slow, soft kiss on his lips before you curl into his chest. He sighs in content and you relax into his hold. 

Neither of you speak. You don’t have to. You both choose to stay in the moment, laying pressed against the person you love, and save any conversation for in the morning.

It’s like that, wrapped snugly in George’s arms, that you begin to drift off - lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his breathing and the arm rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

• • •

You’re the first to wake up, disoriented until you remember where you are and who it is that has their arm thrown around your waist.

You roll over and stare as you come face to face with your best friend, the man you are hopelessly in love with, fast asleep next to you. It takes a moment for the shock of your situation to pass out of your system - and even then it never fully goes away.

Turning to look at the ceiling, you run over the events of the last sixteen hours. Last night really happened. You shagged George Daniel - your George. It was real, the ache between your legs being a prime indicator of such. You couldn’t believe it - but what did this mean for the both of you?

You shift onto your side so that you can face George as he sleeps, taking in his peaceful state. His eyelids flutter in his sleep and he lets out a soft hum as he tightens the arm around your waist.

You don’t stop yourself as the urge to touch him takes over you. Reaching up, you begin to lightly trace his face with your fingertips - dragging them over his cheeks, his brows, his forehead - committing all of his features to your memory.

Your fingertips eventually reach his lips, and it’s as you run them over his cupid's bow that he stirs awake - but you don’t move your hand away.

He lets out a quiet noise, shuffling for a moment before his eyes flutter open to meet yours. George blinks once, twice and then smiles a soft, dopey-looking smile that causes butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

Noticing that your fingers are still resting by the corner of his mouth, George turns his head so that he can place a kiss on your index finger, following it with a kiss to your middle, ring, and pinky fingers.

You watch him in awe as he brings his hand up to wrap around your wrist before slowly trailing kisses up your arm and pulling you completely into his embrace. 

His arms wrap tightly around you and he begins peppering kisses across your face, sending a smile to your lips and pulling a giggle out of you. George chuckles, bringing his nose up to rub against yours before pushing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

The kiss grows in passion, your lips moving in sync as you roll on top of him, and it’s not until you’re pulling away for air that your moment is interrupted. Beneath you, George’s stomach growls, and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your throat at the sheepish look on his face.

“Hungry?” You tease, lowering your face back down to his.

He hums, bringing his hand to the back of your neck and pulling your face closer to his, trying to go in for another kiss. “Maybe.”

“Well then,” You pull away from him, fighting the smile that tries to work its way onto your face at the offended look George gives you. “I think I can fix that.”

Rolling off of him, you get up from the bed and grab one of George’s t-shirts from a stack near his bed, throwing it over your naked form. You start walking towards the door before you throw a glance over your shoulder at George, who’s laying in the bed and watching you with a soft look in his eyes.

“Well? Better go freshen up while I start on breakfast.” And with that you make your way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, leaving George staring after you in shock.

It takes only a minute before George is scrambling out of the bed and hurrying into the bathroom, not daring to waste another moment that could be spent with you like this.

In the kitchen, you start cooking up the breakfast foods that you found in George’s fridge. You turn on the stove, prepping the bacon and eggs to be cooked.

George, now fully awake and feeling much better after freshening up in the bathroom, makes his way to the kitchen and freezes in the doorway at the sight in front of him.

There you are, swaying your hips back and forth to a silent tune as you stand at the stove cooking, wearing just his shirt. He crosses his arm and leans against the doorway, watching you flutter about his kitchen. The sight is overwhelmingly domestic - you in his clothes, in his kitchen, moving around like it’s your flat just as much as it is his. It makes his chest tight with the surge of adoration he feels looking at you.

He never wants to stop, and he will be damned if he lets this chance go.

“I think I could get used to this.”

You startle in place before turning around, finding George leaning against the doorframe in only a pair of sweatpants that hang low on his hips - his bare chest on full display. You swallow and quickly turn back to the food on the stove with a small smile on your face. 

“Could you, now?”

“Oh, yes.” George pushes off the doorframe and makes his way to stand behind you, where he wraps his arms around your body and places a tender kiss on the side of your head. “I definitely could.”

You smile and turn around in his arms so that you’re facing each other, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck. Your fingers start running over the short hair at the back of his neck and George lets out a hum, leaning forward to rest his head against yours.

He smiles as he moves in, placing his lips on yours. The arms around your waist tighten their hold, and you pull his face closer to yours by the back of his neck. 

You drag your tongue across his bottom lip and his breath hitches as he pulls back smiling. The both of you stand there for what feels like hours - when in reality only seconds have passed - simply basking in the other’s affection. 

Resting his forehead on yours once more, George sighs happily,looking directly into your eyes as he breathes out your name, smile not wavering once. “Y/n.”

And with that one word, the way he says your name like it’s the best thing he’s ever heard, everything just stops. 

It’s you and him, just like it’s always been, but the air has changed, something has shifted. Neither of you are scared of this - of the feelings, of the possible consequences - you’re both sure of what you want, and now you both know that you’ve been wanting the same thing.

It’s you and George. Your George, George Daniel, your best friend in the entire world - and you are so very head over heels for him.

That doesn’t mean that you aren’t worried that you’re completely reading into all of it. It could have been a one night thing and he could want to go back to being best friends, but you are absolutely certain that you won’t ever be able to go back to the way things were.

You need him to say it.

“George, I don’t want to just be your best friend. I can’t be.” Your words pull the both of you out of the moment you had created and you watch as George’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“I thought we got past that last night?” He pulls back slightly to get a better look at your face. Had last night not been enough for you to realize how he felt about you?

You let out a sigh. “I know, I just-”

“Y/n.” The way he says your name is stern, demanding of your complete attention. George pauses, steeling himself for what he’s about to say before taking a deep breath and continuing. “I’ve been in love with you for ages. We’ve never been just friends and I don't exactly want to start now. Not after last night. Not after I finally got what I’ve been wanting for as long as I can remember.”

Your jaw drops at his confession, bringing your hand to your chest to rest it there - as if to slow the racing of your heart and keep it from beating completely out of your chest. “You what?”

George doesn’t hesitate in his response, looking directly into your eyes as he speaks. “I love you. A ridiculous amount, actually.”

“George-” This can’t be real. No way he just said those three words that you’ve dreamt of falling from his lips. He loves you. He loves you.

He cuts you off. “You don’t have to say it back, that’s not why I said it-” His eyes scan over your features, trying to read your expression, “but god - please tell me last night meant something to you too, because I really don’t want this to be a one night thing and-”

You grab his face in your hands, cutting off his words and looking back into his eyes as you say those three words back. “I love you.”

The tension leaves his body, his eyes shining.“Wait, you-” 

You cut him off again. “I. Love. You.” You punctuate each word with a kiss before attaching your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

You cup his jaw as he brings a hand up to tangle in your hair, holding your face against his and pulling you closer to him by your waist.

The kiss is full of love and adoration, years worth of affection that was once suppressed is now spilling out -  showing itself through every look and every touch exchanged.

George is the first to pull away as he glances down and smiles. He brings his hand away from your hair and moves it to your neck, where he gives a slight tug on the gold necklace that you didn’t take off last night.

He looks up at you with so much love that you have a hard time breathing. You’re frozen in place, overwhelmed by the feeling in your chest that grows the longer you look at him. 

All of the silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting, it’s all led to this moment - and you’ve never been happier.

That is until George’s smile falls and his nose scrunches up. 

“Do you smell that?”

Oh my god the food.

“Shit!”

• • •

a/n: And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed George and Darling as much as I did :)) I honestly had a lovely time working on this (minus the part where i lost 9k of it while i was writing and had to completely rewrite the last half) and im happy to have been able to share it with you. The lack of George fanfiction is devastating, especially as a team George truther (iykyk), and i am glad that i was able to contribute to the cause. Its been fun!! I'm going to go drown myself in holy water now, see you later &lt;3 xoxo - K