#or it's my brain brianing wrong unsure

[ghostly-kal]

behold, the latest piece i spent so long working on am not undecided if i like it or hate it

[mossyt0mb]

ABOUT VELVET GOLDMINE

favourites archive ★

✪ For once, there was an unknown land, full of strange flowers and subtle perfumes; a land of which it is joy of all joys to dream; a land where all things are perfect and poisonous.

The doctors guaranteed the treatment would fry the fairy clean out of him, but all it did was make him bonkers every time he heard electric guitar.

I needn't mention how essential dreaming is to the character of the rock star.

A cigarette tracing a ladder to the stars.

All that glitters --- is gay!

The aesthete gives characteristically cynical evidence replete with pointed epigram and startling paradox while explaining his views on morality in art.

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person... Give him a mask and he'll tell you the truth.

~ Tell us, Brian, are the rumors true when they say you and Curt Wild have some sort of plans up your sleeve?

~ Oh, yes. Quite soon we actually plan to take over the world.

We set out to change the world... ended up just changing ourselves.

What's wrong with that?

Nothing, if you don't look at the world.

✪ this film has left an immense impact on my brain, and I'm still unsure why and how it got its claws in me so strongly. every time I watch it, there's something new I notice. it feels magical, like the world shines a little better, gives a little more sparkle. something in me buzzes when I see the opening credits and it rarely leaves until the end credits roll. it's really quite hard to explain - I guess it just feels like home.

✪ “We have a very modest goal for this film,” director Todd Haynes told me in 1998, on the eve of releasing his sumptuous glam rock fantasia Velvet Goldmine. “That’s just to turn every gay person straight and every straight person gay.”

Of course, Velvet Goldmine will never be a definitive final statement about Bowie or glam rock generally. But it still stands up as a gloriously ambitious response to both, a dazzling tapestry of lies that reveals a deeper truth. It remains a kaleidoscopic cult classic, a gateway drug to a liberating polysexual wonderland of the imagination, a crash course for the ravers.

--- BFI

[cordsycords]

(op I'm sorry but i saw this post a while ago and it made my brain go brrrrrr. feel free to ignore me.)

"Do I need to have an elf-y name?" Adam asked, out of the blue, after several hours of silence from the boy. He had found a rock to kick a mile back or so, and it had appeared to have entertained him for some time. Apparently it had only been a mere distraction, something to do as his mind was roiling away, and he was now ready to have a long-winded and no doubt inquisitive conversation with his two chaperones.

Crowley himself had not been thinking of much, the act of walking allowing his thoughts to disperse. He had been enjoying the quiet, as it had been the only time he could find peace over the past several days of travel. Now shaken out of it, he looked over to Adam walking next to him, then over the boy's head to Aziraphale. The templar also seemed to be surprised by the boy's sudden question, and was shooting Crowley a glare that probably meant I have no idea what to say. This one's yours.

Crowley rolled his eyes, and Aziraphale glared harder. The elf sighed, "Why d'you ask?"

"Well mum and dad gave me a human name when I was living with humans, shouldn't I have an elf-y name now I'm going to be living with elves? Just makes sense, I think."

"Do you want an Elvhen name?" Crowley asked.

"Don't know yet. Do you have an elf-y name?"

Crowley grunted, unsure of how to answer the question indirectly, "I have a name."

"Yeah but Crowley isn't a name for an elf. It's barely a name at all, not one I've ever heard of. My mum had an elf-y name, but she changed it 'cause people kept getting it wrong," Adam paused as he thought for a second, "Dav-ee-ra. Something like that."

"Dhaveira," Crowley corrected his pronunciation, "Means, mmh, snow-kissed, in common."

Adam wrinkled his nose, "What does Crowley mean?"

Crowley almost stopped walking. He looked over at Aziraphale from the corner of his eye. Judging by the looking on the template's face, it seemed as if he had been pondering the same question, but was far too polite to ever come out and ask him.

"'S just a name, really," Crowley replied, hoping that the non-answer would be enough to prod Aziraphale into action.

"That's not an—"

"Perhaps you could tell us what's really bothering you, Adam," Aziraphale interjected, guiding the conversation away from the current topic of Crowley's name.

Adam was silent for a moment as he gathered his words, "I'm not going to fit in much, am I?"

"Does that worry you?" Aziraphale asked, his voice turning soft as he spoke kindly to the boy.

"Yes. A bit."

"Why?"

"Well I don't look like an elf. Don't talk like one either. Can't even walk like one, less my feet get all sore," Adam said, staring at Crowley's boot-less feet, "It's like when Pepper and Wensley and me first met Brian, and we didn't like him because he didn't play any of our games right."

"But you taught him how to play? And then you and he became friends, yes?"

"Well, yea, that's how it went. But this's different, I think, more'n just games."

Crowley was once again at the receiving of another Aziraphale glare, silently commanding him to offer his own words of comfort.

"Won't matter much if they like you," Crowley piped up, "You'll be Keeper when you're older, whether they like you or not."

Adam shriveled his nose again. Crowley looked over to Aziraphale for his approval, but the expression on the templar's face told Crowley that that was not the appropriate thing to say at the moment.

"Mother told me about Keepers. Said they were responsible for… rememb'ring things. That everyone else forgets. Said they learned all the stories and were able to tell them by heart."

"That's right," Crowley confirmed, "It's the Keeper's job for remembering the history of the People, so they can teach the next generation."

"But I don't know any of that."

"You'll learn," Aziraphale tried to soothe him.

"Did you learn 'em? 'Cause you're First?" Adam asked Crowley.

"Yes."

"When?"

Crowley tried to think back to a time when his mother hadn't taught him the any of the histories yet, and found it quite impossible. He had started learning at an early age, repeating his mother's words back to her as she told him stories before putting him to sleep. He shrugged his shoulders, "Young. Four or five probably."

Adam's eyes widened, "Maker's breath."

Aziraphale shifted at the blasphemy, "You'll have time, Adam. I'm sure Crowley here will be happy to teach you."

The two of them turned to look at him.

"Yea, sure, whenever you want, kid."

Adam shrugged, "Now seems as good a time as any. Better than just walking in silence."

Crowley raised his brow at the boy's enthusiasm, but nodded anyway, and searched his memory for a good place to start. He cleared his throat, then began, "Long ago, when time itself was young, the only things in existence were the sun and the land…"

Good Omens / Dragon Age

Working on a dalish elf-mage Crowley / human templar Aziraphale AU and they're consuming my every thought...

[inkheartedwanderer]

what friends are for || the breakfast club

tbc x reader // mostly allison and brian bc losers unite (platonic!)

content: a small snippet of monday morning after detention. 

word count: 2.3k

“I don’t have any friends…”

“Well, if you did?”

“No… I don’t think the kind of friends I’d have would mind...”

Allison’s words resonate in your brain as you walk up the stairs and into the busy entrance of Shermer High School on Monday, March 26th, 1984. Waves of people swarm around you, as you make your way towards your locker, down the hall and to the right; the buzz of the early morning ringing in your ears like the static from the broken radio of your car. It’s a stark contrast to the emptiness these same corridors held just two days ago, and it almost feels like Saturday was a fever dream, hazy and overwhelming.

But everything that went down on Saturday was real -the screaming and the crying, the accusations and the confessions. The bonding. The fleeting illusion of a budding friendship with five other kids, all of you so different from one another, but so similar in one too many ways, all of you broken and lost. A part of you wants things to go back to normal, ignore the people that now know too much about you, more than anyone else ever has. Another part of you, a corner of your heart, small but pulsating like an open wound, wants to prove Claire wrong, prove her that the perfectly constructed social hierarchy of Shermer High means nothing if you just try. 

You don’t have as much to lose as Andy or Claire herself, but you don’t have as much to gain as Brian, Allison, or even Bender, either. People know you. People like you. You’re nice. Or you were, before you punched your best… ex-best friend right in the eye (and right in front of a teacher). But she had it coming, after her continuous not-so-subtle snide remarks about your problems at home that morning, the reason why you try so hard to be a good student, a good person, even if you slip from time to time. 

Your white sneakers squeak against the linoleum floor when you turn around the corner and the first thing you see is her in front of her open locker, applying concealer above her cheekbone with gentle pats of her middle finger; she’s surrounded by the other girls in your group, who are loudly asking her about the bruise that adorns her pale face. She won’t tell anyone it was you and you know it, but you’re unsure she’ll let you come near her and your friends anymore. Her eyes meet yours and her face hardens in a second. It’s obvious you’re not welcome. You would care, but it’s not her you are actually looking for.

A voice, gentle but firm calls you from behind. You look over your shoulder. Soft, meek Brian is gingerly making his way towards you, poorly hiding his nervousness as he approaches. You offer him a smile and turn completely, waving as he stops in front of you. “Hey, Brian.” He visibly relaxes at your tone, his lips turning upwards, braces on display. “What’s up? Did you have a nice Sunday?”

He nods vigorously, happy that you haven’t ignored him. Not that you would’ve before, but he doesn’t know that. “I studied for the Math exam we have on Friday, then started reading a new comic book. I’m almost done with it.”

“Cool.”

A few seconds pass and Brian shifts his weight from foot to foot. He looks at his shoes, then steals a glance your way. “That’s a nice sweater,” he points at your light purple knit jumper “it looks good on you. The yellow one from Saturday was pretty, too.” You nod and look at him expectantly, in teasing silence, biting the inside of your cheek trying to hide a smile. There’s a faint pink tint dusting his cheeks. You’re pretty sure he has a small crush on you, and he’s so obvious and awkward about it that it’s endearing. 

Brian clears his throat and turns to his left, pointing to a group of boys huddling together around a locker a few feet away. “Those are my friends.” He says, matter-of-factly. They are staring at you like you’ve got two heads, somewhere between fascinated and terrified. You share a few classes with one of them, a tall and lanky guy with thick-rimmed glasses who talks very fast.

“Right,” You wave at them, “I know Freddie.” The boys wave back with hesitancy, studying Brian and you with cautious eyes. 

“That’s awesome, then.” Brian claps his hands together, leaning in confidentially. “They say it’s cool if you want to join us for lunch. You’re welcome at our table. Today or whenever” He smiles, pleased with himself, proud that he didn’t stutter while talking to you.

It isn’t hard to agree, considering you are now virtually friendless. “Sure, why not?” You say, sounding more nonchalant than you feel. And Brian’s face lits up, eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights. You know what he’s thinking. Suck on that, Claire. Screw cliques. “Listen, have you-” The bell rings loudly, its grating sound piercing across the hall and signaling the beginning of the classes. You tsk and hold the boy’s arm before can walk away. “Have you seen Allison?”

Brian, who is trying to go back to his friends before they leave without him, stops in his tracks and looks at the ceiling, retracing his steps since he arrived at school earlier this morning. “No, I don’t think I have.” You drop your hand, let it fall against your jean-clad thigh in defeat. The crowd is dispersing and she’s nowhere to be seen, not in this hallway, at least. When you sigh, Brian speaks again. “She won’t be hard to find, though. If you do, tell her to come, too. For lunch.” And after giving you a thumbs up, he turns around and leaves.

                                                         -

It’s during the long break between the third and fourth periods that you manage to find Allison. She’s alone, pressing against a locker in the far corner of the arts hall near the library, clutching the strap of her grey bag with a death grip and looking intently at everyone passing her by.

Although she’s wearing all black again, an ink stain in an ocean of bright red lockers and yellow walls, and dark liner around her eyes, you notice as you get closer to her that she’s pinned her bangs back with two small hairpins.

She gasps when she spots you, a deep inspiration that shakes her whole body, and her smile is timid when you reach her side. Yours, however, is wide and sunny, and her face brights up like a child’s, a silent hello falling from her lips.

Two days earlier, when Allison stated softly I don’t have any friends, you swore your heart broke a little. Sure, she was a bit weird and showed questionable eating habits, but by the time you all sat at the back of the library to talk, you had grown fond of the girl; and it made you indescribably sad to see the deep loneliness in her eyes. You’ve come to school this morning determined to change that. You’re still not sure how you feel about her knack for lying, though.

“Hi,” You chirp, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“You have?” Her tone is awestruck, like she can’t believe anyone would look for her, and she’s breathing very hard.

You laugh. “Yeah, I tried to catch you this morning, but the bell rang before I could.”

The girl nods very slowly, taking in your words. Her smile grows bigger, more genuine and less tentative. “I was late today.” She touches her hair inadvertently, patting her short locks where they are pinned back.

“I’m digging the new look.”

Allison looks like she’s on the verge of tears (happy, you hope) when she thanks you with a choked voice.

You’re about to speak when a loud voice makes you jump.

“Well, if this isn’t the slugger and the freak.” 

Rolling your eyes at the nickname, you look over Allison’s shoulder. John Bender is sauntering towards you with a smug smile and his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. He’s put a cigarette behind his ear, which is adorned with a shiny diamond earring. He’s got a slightly chaotic energy about him that used to make you nervous before you got to officially meet him, but now it’s easier for you to spot the mischievous -if not playful- gleam in his eyes when he’s trying to be amicable. 

“That’s rich coming from you.” You still haven’t mastered the art of deadpanning, but you try. “Broken any laws lately?”

Allison snickers beside you, face towards the floor but eyes bouncing from him to you. 

Bender squints, then makes a noise, a mix between a snort and a cackle. “Not yet,” he mimics your mock shock expression, “but t’s still early, sweets, don’t worry.” With a two finger salute, he begins to walk backwards, away from you. “Don’t punch anyone today.”

He makes a scene, demanding attention, tall and boisterous as he jumps and hits a banner that’s hanging from the ceiling. It wrinkles with a loud crack and comes off on one side. John lands too close to a group of girls, getting a fuss from them. 

“Look!” Allison nudges you and directs your attention towards one of the girls. Leaning on one shoulder against a locker, with her fiery red hair shining like silk and her pink lips pursed, Claire is staring at Bender with such intensity you’re afraid she might burn a hole in his jacket. Whether that’s good or bad, you’re not sure; but the smug smirk that spreads across his face when he makes eye contact with her tells you that’s exactly the reaction he was expecting.

You turn your attention back to the girl beside you, her brown eyes trained on you, blinking slowly. A bit weird, but who cares, you think. “So,” you begin, placing your hand on her elbow, gently, “Brian and his friends say we’re welcome to sit with them today, in the cafeteria.” Her eyes go wide and she makes a noise at the back of her throat. Feeling encouraged, you link your arm through hers and begin walking slowly down the corridor. “I think it’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, I think so.” She seems somewhat nervous, but lets you lead the way without resisting. “Did he really say I can go too?” 

“Of couse! He explicitly told me to tell you.”

Allison beams, squeezing your arm with cold fingers. 

Some people give you a few weird looks as you walk past. Others know you and wave, although their eyebrows furrow in confusion, surprised that your best friend isn’t by your side, puzzled that the resident weirdo is.

The wrestling team is gathered around a drinking fountain, a rowdy group of clean-cut boys in matching blue letterman jackets, making it hard not to notice them. Andrew’s piercing blue eyes find Allison without trouble, and he looks at her like a lovesick puppy when their gazes meet. His smile is timid when he nods, more valiant when the girl waves at him.

He hesitates for a long second as you two approach, getting closer to them and closer to walking away; and, with a surge of courage, steps in front of you and speaks lowly, voice full of warmth. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Allison looks at the floor.

“You look lovely.” It’s barely a whisper, but the girl’s cheeks turn hot pink and you smile. You’re not usually a fan of being a third wheel, but they’re both so nervous you can’t really say anything, can you? 

Andrew isn’t paying attention to you, completely focused on Allison, tracing her face with his eyes, smiling dopely. He takes his hand out of his pocket and offers her a piece of white paper, wrinkled and torn from a notebook. “I wanted to give you this. Call me, will you?” And steps back to his spot at the back of his team as if nothing had happened.

His number is neatly written with blue ink, a small smiley face at the bottom of the note. When you giggle, Allison giggles with you.

“I think he likes you.” 

“Shut up.” There’s no bite or malice in her words.

“It’s cute.” 

“Should I call him?” She’s staring at the piece of paper as if it were made of gold.

You’re escandalised. “Of course! Call him today after school. The wrestling team doesn’t train on Mondays.” 

“What do I say?”

“Well, first you say hi and- hey,” an idea pops into your head like a lightbulb turning on, “what if I go over today? To your house. I can help you figure out what to say and then I’ll let you call him by yourself.”

Her brows crease in the middle. “No one’s ever been to my house before.” She says it slowly, almost void of emotion.

Oh. You have a good idea of how awful her parents were -they own a big house, pretty but cold, and never pay their daughter much attention. Maybe you have overstepped. Maybe Allison dislikes visitors as much as you do. Maybe she avoids her place if she can, too.

But then she nods slowly. “But if you want to help me, I’d- I’d like that.”

You sigh, relieved, when she speaks again. Uncertain, confused, trying to figure you out. “Why would you do this for me?”

“Mmmh,” you rub her arm, “that’s what friends are for, Allison.”

“Friends?” You nod and think you’ll say it as many times as she asks you to just to see her like this again -she seems happy, happier than you’ve seen her before. You recognise the twinkle of hope in her eyes, the apple red excitement on her cheeks. The realisation, she doesn’t have to be alone, not anymore. 

                                                  🌷 🌷 🌷

a/n: Is The Breakfast Club fandom active at all? I hope it is, because after this year’s rewatch I have a lot of feelings. I’m sorry about my bias for our two losers here, I love Allison and Brian so much ♡♡♡

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome and appreciated :) ♡

[killerlookz]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐌𝐞 𝐎𝐮𝐭 | Brian Wilcox x Gn! Reader

description: a fic very loosely! based on im not okay by my chemical romance in which, reader often seeks out their best friend brian's help regarding their failing relationship with their boyfriend, but never seems to listen. and brian gets frustrated that reader won't break up with their boyfriend for more reasons than just them not being treated right.

content: lots of angsty teen stuff. vague reference to leaked intimate photos. best friends to "enemies" (using that word loosely) to lovers, angst, cheating, comfort, first kiss, fluff!!! (happy ending)

word count: 3285

"I just don't understand why you have such an interest in us breaking up!" You snapped, staring at your best friend's expressionless face as he sits on the edge of your bed. Suddenly, that changed, his eyebrows furrowed, and he grimaced, shaking his head.

"Why?" He retorted with equal force to you, throwing up his arms in disbeleif, "Because he fucking treats you like shit!"

"Not like shit, Brian. You're being overdramatic." You cross your arms over your chest defensively.

"Like SHIT y/n, I'm not having this argument with you again." He runs a hand through his greasy black hair, the strands lifting up from their spot thrown over his forehead as they fall through his fingers. "You know y/n, you claim to have all these fucking problems, but you don't, everything wrong in your life would just be solved if you broke up with him, and I keep telling you this, and you never fucking listen, I have no advice left to give you, I'm sick of hearing about this, I'm worn out." He rants.

"Brian!" You scold in a weak, faint voice, tears welling up in your eyes. "Well, who's the one treating me like shit now?" You huff.

"Don't start with that," He gestures his pointer finger at you, shaking it up and down. "You told me you wanted my honest opinion, I'm being honest, it's not my fault you don't want to hear it."

"Well you tell me he treats me like shit but never tell me why all you say is to break up with him. I feel stuck, like I have no other options."

"Don't tell you why?- Because you do that for me. Every. Single. TIme you bitch to me." Brian sighs, frustration deep within his heavy breaths. "Come on y/n, don't be stupid, everyone's seen those pictures he took of you."

Your throat goes dry and you swallow viciously while sucking in a hard breath through your nose. Your face contorts with discontent, and your jaw clenches. For a moment you're suddenly transported back to the most humiliating weeks of your life. You can still feel the stares of your judgemental classmates burning into your body, with knowing eyes, aware of parts of you that they shouldn't have been. You can hear their whispers and giggles swarm around your head.

"That was fucking low, Brian." A tear rolls down your face which you quickly wipe away using the entire back of your hand. You shake your head, knitting your brows, "It was an accident-" You choke.

"You and I both know that's not true." Brain mutters.

"Why are you being so cruel." Your voice begins to crack as you can feel a sob coming on. Brian's reaction isn't exactly what you expected, most times you ranted about your boyfriend Brian was usually there to give you a hug, and to comfort you. Sure, he'd usually tell you to break up with your boyfriend, (in less friendly terms than that), but still, he'd at least always offer some sort of positivity.

Brian takes a deep inhale, "Because," then he exhales, "You wear me out."

"Do I?" You sneer, unsure of whether to be more sad or angry.

"Look, I don't mean to like make you upset, or let you down, or whatever," He speaks rapidly, shaking his head and screwing his eyes shut tight. "But I think it's better off you if you just hear the truth."

"But Brian," You sigh, "I can tell you're not telling the whole truth."

"That's on you." He crosses his arms, "I'm not arguing anymore, I have my own shit to worry about, I can't keep dealing with your problems. Try taking a good hard look at yourself sometime, and maybe you'll actually understand where I'm coming from."

You don't respond, only staring at Brian through misty eyes. As your breath falters, trying your best to hold back a full-on sob, you try took look for some semblance of warmth from Brian, just an ounce of comfort. Despite how upsetting Brian's words were, you knew that just the smallest amount of consolation would make you feel better, even if he just gave you a loose hug, that always worked, that always made you feel better, why couldn't he just do that?

"I gotta go," he huffs, "See you around."

You can't bear to look at him as he gets off his spot on your bed. You continue to say silent, your arms crossed around your chest, looking down at your legs. You can hear the sound of his footsteps walking out of the room, and the door closing on his way out, the shutting sound signaling you were now alone was an immediate trigger for the tears to come falling down your cheeks.

That's just it. You were alone.

The one person in your life that you could count on to make you feel better in times of need just walked right out the door without an ounce of hesitation. What were you to do now? Cry to your boyfriend about it? That would go over well. 'Hey babe, I really need someone right now, my best friend just stormed out of my room because he got frustrated about me always complaining about you.'

You sighed, throwing your head back on your pillow, your tears now running sideways down your face. The worst part is, you knew Brian was right. You had to break up with your boyfriend, and that would solve all of your problems. The two of you weren't in love, you weren't even sure that you had ever been. But with no boyfriend, how could you possibly deny your actual feelings for-

"Y/N! DINNER!" You heard your mother scream from the kitchen, cutting your thoughts off completely. Shit, you quickly wipe away the tears from your eyes, not in the mood to be questioned on why you were crying over dinner. You take a few deep breaths in and out, preparing yourself to act at least somewhat normal before heading out to eat dinner.

You walked into the kitchen and your mom greeted you with a confused look on her face,

"I thought Brian was staying for dinner."

-

It had been a few days since your argument with Brian, and you hadn't talked to him since. Truth be told, you weren't doing well, not at all. The last few days had been full of nothing but tension and tears for you. Every time he'd pass you by in the hallway you were ignored, he wouldn't even spare you a glance. He'd usually avert his eyes and turn to talking to Amber, or one of his other friends.

It hurt Like, really fucking hurt.

You couldn't stand the feeling it gave you every time he passed you by, the way your heart dropped, and your stomach flipped. You couldn't count the times you felt yourself nearly throw up in the last couple of days alone.

Not having Brian around was far worse than any heartbreak you ever experienced. It had only been a couple of days, and it wasn't like he loathed you or anything, but you'd almost felt like a part of you was missing without him around. It felt stupid to say, he was just some greasy teenager, but you never really realized how complete he made you feel.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, seemed happier than ever. Glad you finally ditched that "loser" Brian. He'd never really enjoyed having Brian around, and you usually had to fight to try to let him hang out with you whenever your boyfriend was around.

You sighed, placing your head in your hand as your arm rested on your desk. Your last period teacher was ranting and raving about something, you couldn't have been less interested. You picked up your heavy head and raised your arm way up.

"Yes y/n?" The teacher shot a look your way.

"Can I go to the bathroom?" You ask, desperate to get out of class.

"I'm in the middle of a lecture-"

"Okay, but I have to go to the bathroom."

"Fine. Go." She responded reluctantly before getting back onto her tangent.

You're relieved the teacher did not put up much of a fight, and begin to slip out of the classroom, into the dismal halls of the school building. You had no real destination, you didn't actually have to use the bathroom, only the desire to roam around aimlessly to try and clear your head. The poorly-lit, decaying classrooms filled with far too many people you didn't like tended to get pretty stuffy really quickly.

You tried to think of nothing else other than the sound of your footsteps as your beat-up old vans hit the dirty tile floor with every step you took. You let the quiet thudding sound sort of put you into a trance until you heard a voice around the corner.

"Oh forget them," You heard an all-too-familiar voice say, "They'll never know." It was your boyfriend. You stopped dead in your tracks, not really wanting to be seen by him and have any sort of interaction, but you were also very intrigued as to what he was talking about. You inched closer against the wall he was on the other side of, just around the bend. You were meer feet away but he had know knowledge of your presence.

"Are you sure?" You heard another voice say, a girl this time, you recognized the voice as a friend of your boyfriend's that had hung out with the two of you from time to time.

"Positive, they'll probably be home crying tonight or something, too emotional to even realize or even care where I am."

You felt your muscles stiffen at the sound of his words, certainly, he wasn't talking about you, was he?

"Don't be a dick." The girl giggled.

"I'm not baby, it's just the truth, they're such a downer. I need some fun in my life."

Baby? You listened onwards, feeling your blood begin to- not boil, but simmer. You were nearly certain he was talking about you, and why was he calling her baby?

In a surprising move of bravery you peered around the corner, hoping to god the two of them didn't see you. As you peeked just your head down the hall you could see them standing a decent distance away, the girl with her back pressed against a locker, and your boyfriend hovering over her.

Some fucking nerve he had. Doing this in public? Not even having the decency to break up before going after someone else?

You couldn't even find it in you to be sad right now, you bit down on the inside of your cheeks, surpressing a cackle of utter disbelief at what you were witnessing.

"Okay," The girl smirked before catching her bottom lip in her teeth, "I'll see you at 8 then?"

"On the dot." Your boyfriend smirked back.

"See you then."

Your boyfriend leaned down from his spot standing over her, pressing a kiss onto the girl's cheek. If only he knew you were here to see this right now.

You quickly swung your head back from around the corner and began heading back the way you came, hoping that neither of them would also walk this way and run into you.

Your legs trembled under you as you walked, and you feared that they might give out any second now. Your breath shook and you could barely get a decent-sized breath in or out.

God, if you'd just listened to Brian and broken up with your boyfriend when he first told you to none of this would have ever happened, and you'd still have your best friend.

You walked right past your classroom, unable to functionally act like a human, right now there would have been no way that you could sit down for the remainder of class and not freak out. You swallowed hard, trying your best to repel a sob, or maybe a laugh, perhaps even somewhat of both. You had no clue how to react, what even was the proper emotion to witnessing your boyfriend cheating on you? Probably being sad. But you didn't feel sad, no, not in the miserable cry yourself to sleep sort of way. Not in the keep your head down low not talking to anyone sort of way. Instead, you felt like you had to jump out of your own skin. Nothing in your body felt right, everything was uncomfortable. You couldn't stay still, your jaw, your breath your hands, they all shook.

There was a bubbling in your throat, not of the painful lump that precedes a cry, but a burning, one that could only be soothed by screaming at the top of your lungs, a sensation that could only be quelled by a presentation of your flaming anger.

You postulated that perhaps you'd probably be sad later, once you experienced the comedown of all this disbelief and anger. And you dreaded that too, you didn't know which emotion you'd prefer, both seemed positively unbearable.

On your aimless journey down the hall, you passed a clock hung up on a depressingly beige wall, glancing up at it with nearly teary eyes you realized there were only five minutes left in the day. A slight relief. You blinked away the forming tears in your eyes and began your shaky journey back to the classroom to get your things.

"Thank you for deciding to come back." Said your teacher, giving you a disappointed glare as you walked in the room.

"There was a line." You grumbled, heading back to your seat at the back of the room.

Defeatedly, you threw yourself back into your seat and anxiously watched the clock. Time had never seemed to move so slow as it did now, each passing second hand teasing you, bringing you closer and closer to the end of the day. Even with the minute amount of time left that burning uncomfortableness inside of you made you want to just get up and run out right there.

Then finally, the shrill ringing of the dismissal bell. It's ear-shattering high pitched tone was absolute music to your ears right now as you nearly ran out the classroom door, and pushing passed the hoards of people in the hallway.

You'd never felt so claustrophobic in your life, the dozens of students lining the hall suffocated you as they prevented you from the sweet release of being out of the school building. You pushed, and pushed, and pushed, being an absolute nuisance to everyone you came in contact with, but right now you really did not care. Then finally- you stepped outside.

The contact with the fresh air was not the cathartic release you were hoping it to be. Rather, you stepped outside and realized you no longer had anything further to look forward to, nothing else that you thought perhaps could free you of this feeling. You ran a hand through your hair, tugging on the strands a little out of pure stress. Your eyes roamed the courtyard of the school, looking out on the sea of students leaving for the weekend.

Then- you spotted him, Brian, walking alone to his car. Fuck it. You needed to do something. Talk to someone. You began walking in that direction, your legs picking up at an unreasonably fast walking pace.

You made your way to Brian's old, beatup car, he hadn;t noticed your presence right outside his passenger window. You peaked in the dirty window, you could see him in the drivers seat, head down with various CD cases strewn upon his lap, his shaggy hair falling in his face.

You tapped on the window, feeling the sun-warmed glass under your knuckle. Slightly startled Brian looked up, his face turning to one of confusion, or maybe it was disgust as his eyes locked with yours. You were having none of it. You knocked again.

"Open the fucking door Brian." You barked through the glass. Shaking his head in perhaps confusion, he leaned over the console and pulled up the lock on the door. Before Brian could even sit back down completely you were tugging on the door handle, and flinging yourself into the passenger seat of Brian's car.

"What the hell, man?" He asks as you get in.

"Save it, Brian." You snap.

"What did I do?" He asks, throwing his arms up defensively. You turn over to the side and glare at him, "Point taken." He sighs sitting back in the driver's seat. "Whatever," He shakes his head, "What are you doing here?"

"I've sat in your car a million fucking times why are you questioning me now?" You're vaguely aware of your harshness towards Brian, but part of you feels like he maybe deserves it... just a little.

"God, rough day?" He asks unsympathetically,

"I'm okay." You look him dead in the eyes. Brian turns to look at you,

"This is okay to you? Aggressively throwing yourself into my car and snapping at me after not talking for four days?"

"I said I'm okay Brian." You insist, not really keen on telling him the whole cheating situation, nowhere near being in the mood for his 'I told you so's'

"Don't fucking tell me it's him again."

You sit up a little from where you're sat in the passenger seat, inching closer to Brian's face,

"Listen to me," You raise your eyebrows, trying to emphasize your words, "I'm telling you the truth, trust me, Brian, I'm okay- I mean it."

Brian sits up in his seat as well, bringing himself closer to you. His face is so close to yours, you're looking him deep in the eyes, trying your absolute hardest not to start crying to him.

"Look man, I know I said I'm sick of hearing your problems but you don't have to lie to m-" Suddenly he's cut off when you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. What the fuck am I doing? Why the fuck did I just do that? You thought. You pulled away quickly, that sick feeling entering your stomach again after realizing what you did. You could feel yourself on the verge of throwing up. Your eyes darted around the car quickly as Brian stared at you in disbelief, you felt compelled to run out of the car, to leave here, and never ever show your face in Cody ever again.

"Oh my god Brian I'm so sorry I don't know what I was thinki-" Suddenly you were the one being cut off this time, Brian's lips pushing against your own. A sense of relief washed over you with this kiss, his hand comes up and holds your cheek. Brian's kissing is sloppy and inexperienced, and you can't help but to notice the faint smell of french fries on his hoodie sleeve, but you don't mind at all.

It's a little overwhelming, actually, the way he's holding your face close to his, the way your lips work together, literally everything else that's been going on the last few days. You feel a tear roll down your cheek, and Brian must have felt it brush up against one of his fingers because he pulls away, your face still cupped in his hand.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again.

"Im not," You sniffle, shaking your head, "I'm not okay." Tears falling down both of your cheeks now. Brian raises his other hand to your face, wiping the stray droplets away with his thumbs

"Do you want to talk abou-"

"Please just kiss me again." You beg desperately.

"Of course." He nods eagerly.

a/n: finally a non eddie fic!! i've been on SUCH an mcr kick recently so i obviously had to write for my fav emo boy :,) ... sorry if this fic is a little uhh... teen angsty... but look at brian... that man is the EPITOME of teen angst. hope everyone enjoyed :)

[all-that-glitters-is-goldfish]

Blame it on the Alcohol

Pairing: Jay Halstead/Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, Vomiting

Words: ~1500

Description: Just shameless drunk flirting with the best-looking cop in Chicago.

“You’re drunk.”

“And you’re sexy.” You slur, swigging back the last of your vodka cranberry.

“Hey Herrmann, I’ll t-take anotha!” You slide your glass across the counter of the bar, relieved to see the firefighter catch it before smashing into a hundred pieces on the floor.

“Nope. No more. I’m officially cutting you off.” Jay grabs the crumpled $5 bill from your hand.

“Ey, that better be half my tip there!” Herrmann interrupts, slamming down a cup of water in front of you. “Drink that, kiddo.”

You pout your lip realizing that the two were in cahoots to restore your sobriety, but still took the cool glass to press against your parched lips.

“You’re such a party pooper.” You kick Jay playfully under the bar. “I was just celebrating my best friend’s birthday!”

You peer past Jay to look at Sylvie, your ambo partner, who was swallowing back another Jell-O shot given to her by Dawson.

“I don’t understand how someone that small can take so much alcohol.” Jay laughs, having turned around to see what you were so intrigued with.

Your eyes glare at Jay as he takes in Sylvie’s skimpy red dress. You quickly stop staring as he turns back around, his gaze glancing to the still-full cup of water beside you.

“Drink that. All of it.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You tease, pushing the glass further away.

“I mean it Y/N. Don’t really feel like taking care of the case of alcohol poisoning you’re about to get.”

“And what if I don’t? Are ya gonna arrest me?”

Jay smiles. “I just might.”

“Better whip out your handcuffs then.” You regret it the moment the words leave your mouth, your face burning hot in embarrassment.

You reach for your water, averting your eyes far from the detective, chugging down the drink. “I uh- I have to use the bathroom.”

Standing up from the stool a little too fast, your feet crossing awkwardly as you try to stand. You would have nosedived to the floor if it wasn’t for Jay’s strong arms and fast reflexes quickly shooting out of his seat to catch you.

“You good?” He asks.

Staring into his eyes causes a bubbling feeling to rise in your chest, that you first mistake as butterflies, but quickly realize is nausea working its way up your throat. Clasping your hand over your mouth you make a beeline to the bathroom, wriggling free from Jay’s protective hold on you. You dash past several concerned glances, ignoring your surroundings as you fall hard to your knees in front of the toilet, surely bruising them in the process.

What comes up from your stomach is a mixture of fruity cocktails and greasy food and you note that you’ll never again be eating a cheese blintz prepared by Brian Zvonecek’s baba again.

You hear the large wooden door to the bathroom open, expecting it to be Sylvie, or perhaps Gabby, but seeing Jay walk in caught you by surprise and you scramble to grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe any spew that may have landed on your chin, instead of the bowl.

“This is the woman’s room.” You really don’t want to be seen by anyone in your current state, especially not Detective Jay Halstead.

“It’s okay, I have a warrant.”

“Very funny.” You try to stand, but a wave of alcohol-induced dizziness takes over you.

“You okay?” Jay asks.

“Never better.” You reach up to flush away the toilet-full of skinny margaritas.

“Why did you let me drink so much?”

“Excuse me?” Jay cocks an eyebrow.

“You’re a cop. You should have made me stop after the third drink.”

Jay smirks, walking across the floor and gently grabbing your arm, helping you stand. You fall into him as the dizziness washes over you again, smiling as he hugs you closer. “I took your keys after the first drink.” He announces, pulling them from his pocket and dangling them in front of you. “Figured I’d let you have some fun.”

“You went into my purse? Getting a little comfortable there, aren’t you officer?”

“I’m off duty. Don’t want to have to write you up for drinking and driving.”

“You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“I know. Just being cautious. I think it’s time we get you home.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s only midnight! The party just started!”

“Don’t make me carry you out of here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Jay smiles as he puts both arms around your waist, ready to lift you over his shoulders. You panic as you feel the nausea floating around in your stomach at the sudden change of motion. “No! Jay don’t please! I will throw up on you.”

He lets go, keeping one hand on your shoulder, afraid of you falling over.

“I need to grab my coat. I have a long walk home.”

“Ha. Walking. Funny.” Jay states, grabbing his own set of keys. “I’m driving you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“It’s not a discussion.”

“I’ll take a cab!” You exclaim, though your brain reminds you of the last $80 in your bank account that you did not want to blow on a taxi.

“You have a free cab right here.” Jay says motioning to himself before waving goodnight to Sylvie and the many emergency responders jampacked into Molly’s. He guides you outside, carefully leading you down the steps making sure you don’t slip, smashing your head onto the icy concrete below.

After ensuring your seatbelt is secured, after you had struggled with it for several minutes, he takes his place in the driver’s seat, pulling out of the small lot.

“You were supposed to make a left there.” You point out, realizing Jay had driven the wrong direction towards your apartment.

“Uh, Nope.”

“I know I’m drunk, but I still know where I live.”

“Oh, we’re not going to your place.”

“Huh?”

“You’re crashing at my house.”

“What?”

“Don’t need you choking on your own vomit alone.”

“So nice of you to care, but I don’t really want to sleep on your tiny sofa. I can imagine the pain in my neck already…”

“Who said you have to sleep on the couch?”

“Well, considering you live in a 1-bedroom.”

“You can take my bed. As long as you don’t puke in it.”

You chuckle, butterflies rising in your stomach as you stare at your knight-in-shining-armor. “I don’t think I can guarantee that I won’t.”

“Well, I’m prepared to burn my sheets then.”

“If you weren’t driving, I’d punch you.”

“Assaulting an officer and public intoxication. Real nice, Y/N.”

“Ooooh better punish me then, tough guy.”

Jay’s face blushes as he grins at you, side-eyeing your nervous expression.

“I mean, I could spank you, but I think that would be considered police brutality.”

You choke on nothing but air, thinking you misheard the handsome red head.

“I beg your pardon?”

“So, are you only going to flirt with me when you’re drunk? Am I too ugly for you sober? Don’t think I didn’t hear that handcuff comment earlier.”

“I-“ You can barely speak, embarrassment flooding your thoughts from working correctly.

Jay chuckles. “I’ll stop teasing till you sleep it off.”

“I- Um. Thanks? How kind of you?”

You throw your head back against the seat and close your eyes, trying to block out the streetlights flickering past your eyes as you drive down the snowy Chicago streets.

“I’m going to have such a headache in the morning.”

“Good thing my brother’s a doctor. He can get you the strong stuff.”

“Sometimes I don’t know when you’re joking.”

You smile at Jay as he finally pulls up to his apartment. He goes to open the car door before you pull him towards you by his jacket, thrusting your lips against his own, perhaps a little too hard. He’s taken aback, but quickly grabs the back of your head, pulling you in closer. Several seconds pass before you pull away, unsure of what drove you to do that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be.” Jay shakes his head, blushing. “I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

Jay exits the car, rounding the vehicle and opening the door for you on your side. You stay seated for a moment as he looks at you questioningly. “C’mon Y/N, it’s freezing.”

“I just… I was thinking.”

“Huh? About what?”

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch tonight, either.”

“Oh?” Jay grabs your hand, pulling you out of the car and pulling you into his chest.

“What do you have a Queen? I think there’s plenty of room for two people.”

“King, actually.”

“Okay well, we are not making it 3.”

“We’ll leave that up for debate.” Jay winks, helping you inside to the warm building, still clutching you close against the winter air.

[tobebugjewce]

THE WALTEN FILES: my jumbled notes on my blind run-in with this web series

first off this is gonna be long and unorganized, also this is my second time writing this as i had lost literally half of my progress and im This (imagine two fingers almost touching with a 0.0000000001mm distance between them) close to ripping all of the fucking hair out of my goddamn head. but now this will be extra long and yes, i will lose some accuracy to my first writing but thats okay ill probably edit this a kajillion times over

which brings me to my next tangent; im literally braindumping here. so to have a smidge of organization all afterthoughts, edits and corrections will be boldened, i forgot what im gonna do with italicized text but ill probably bolden it here yeah im pretty sure its for side tangents, separate from Corrections, which are in bold. also theyre for emphasis too.

so in general, this post right here is all of my notes i wrote down on my grid-patterned sticky notes (which i used WAYYYY too much of) about the first 3 uploaded walten files youtube videos transferred onto my handy dandy digital notebook, this b(l)og. yeppers peppers. you know im serious about this shit when i typed probably over like a thousand fucking words including boldened shit, italicized shit and motherfucking links, lost it ALL, and im sitting here re-typing it again.

i feel bad about this but im not gonna trigger warn right here, but this is technically a warning. if you want a list of triggers as to what this post (and the walten files in general) i will link a little list to that here

without further a doo doo, (mama mia) here the fucking fuck we go again.

THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #1

clarifying this now, im gonna put some useless shit which i thought was code onto this because even though it was useless it was part of my notes and im physically going to combust if i dont put down every single thing i wrote on my papers. so what i thought was code was in the closed captions, i started writing it down when i got to the second video but came back to my first videos notes to include them. i wrote down the first letter to every word that was capitalized in the closed captions, which i had on as a default because number one i knew going into this id need them because most web horror things like args and cryptic shit like that has some of the most crucial shits in the closed captions. number two i am autistic and have auditory processing issues and have most closed captioning on as a default if theyre available.

firstly jotted, i wrote down the closed captions “code” so im gonna put the rest here too: HYWITB(BSI)Y A(BSI)BJWFKWITW ILHHFSBBSBTLBWI USOISTBNBSFIRBCAWHSHCBWHTAIGRNB*C*BTWLTSFA(20)MCFP ILITIIACPH(1978, 1979)SA(4)YTSCH*C*OGSSU SFTGRPATDBBUTFBNLLCHMIHLBRALLCLAYTUKB*LC*WHATWASTHATTHING 

the numbers in parenthesis are there because i wasnt sure they should be included in the “code” or not. i also thought of this with the BSI - bunny smiles incorporated and also the years 1978 and 1979. the shits in asterisks are coughs and light coughs, which were capitalized in the closed captions so i included them too just in case

i then jotted, in parenthesis of course, the names of the animatronics when they were listed in the animation section of the video; bon aka the blue bunny, sha aka the sheep one, boozoo aka the clown<3 honk<33, and banny aka the purpled eyelashed up one who is also a bunny btw. also i got boozoo the clown and boozoo the mustache guy confused because apparently the clowns name is billy???? but they named “boozoo” in bons sleepover and showed the clown? idk maybe im an idiot and theyre the same or just an idiot and theyre different or a super mega (matt and ryan?!?!??) idiot in general which is probably the case

i started drawing little stars to write down things i thought would be super important or to 100% look at again. the first subject of this pointy torture was the part of the video where at 3:00, i marked it down to make sure to reverse the audio as it was most definitely a weird audio that has that signature warp-y effect that makes sure you KNOW its in reverse. i then listened back to it Very carefully (still got it wrong) and got this: “you finally start to remember. that old doll. they will look out for you soon” im also pretty sure i heard “sophie” at the end of that audio but im not entirely sure and dont remember and i dont wanna go back to check lmfao but anyways it didnt matter because i was wrong anyway. after i had finished all 3 walten files i watched the film theory video on the walten files (which didnt cover all 3 but was dece.) out of curiosity and to hear matpats signature silly little voice explain some stuff i already knew, and click some shit in my brain that i couldve thought up of if i was a bit more... i dont know honestly. anyways yeah so the actual audio is “you finally start to remember. that old day. they will look out for you soon.” so yeah. day, not doll.

i then wrote down “sarah evelyn”, the name on the bons sleepover animation (i dont remember if she created it or animated it or whatnot) and scribbled will she matter? under her name. turns out no, as i didnt see her name in the rest of the series, let alone the first video. this is also a great time to mention how matpat theory helped me realize that the walten files are collections of videos, uploaded onto youtube by anthony. (i already knew about anthony as he signed his name in the descriptions of the youtube videos, making me categorize this overall web series more into an arg type genre.) but yes, the tapes, recorded “irl” footage, animated clips, vhs tape recordings and other audio-visual content is all collected and labeled the walten files, as i had mistaken each video to be a tape. stupid me. alrighty, onward!

i starred this one, good for me; MISSING: Jack Walten LAST SEEN: 06/11/1974

i jotted down with an arrow that; sophie was a nightguard? she was wearing the uniform explained in tape 2 i dont know why but i went back into my video 1 notes after i had watched video 2. organization purposes. i guess.?? 

i then paused the video when the screen flickered a date, the beginning of video footage dated 10/10/1982 (Brian Stells?) god my little genius ass assuming the videographer was brian stells, based on the id card i saw earlier.

i then wrote down what text i saw on the dead, mangled, bloody body in the purple security suit; “i cant feel anything” “he thought i was her” then drew a little arrow pointing to; thought brian was sophie? or ashley? i also starred the name Brian Stells this is totally out of order LMFAOOOOOOOO also i wrote down ashley because, again, my little pea brain went back on my video 1 notes after watching video 2. but yep thats all i wrote for The Walten Files 1 - Company Introductory Tape

THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #2 

Tape #1 - created 07/02/1978

awesome how thats first and foremost in the captions. god. so sexy of you martin walls. /j /nsx

this pack of notes is chunkier because again, like i have mentioned before i am an absolute goober and thought the capitalized letters of the words would actually mean something. I MEAN MAYBE THEY DO AND IM JUST DOING IT WRONG but i stopped doing it after this video because holy shit it was exhausting and my stupid little fingers couldnt take the writing anymore becasue i am WEAK. 

so write off the bat (squeak) i wrote down 197[] the blacked out rectangle over the last digit of that year and everything im also now assuming its probably 1978 or 1974 because lore reasons but whos to say but yeah i also wrote down this;

Tape #2 - created 08/13/1978

then, straight up in the beginning of the video i caught it, the flash of text, as i had by now realized i gotta be SUPER stupid focused on the screen in case i miss anything, i wanted to be crazy precise on my theorizing and mental notes, among other things. but yes i saw it, the first half of a youtube link;  “https://youtu” 

claps hands together and rubs them evilly. oh yeah baby. thats the hot lunch. this shit right here? the cats pajamas. lets fucking go.

i wrote down this goofy shit i pasued to inspect when i saw bon sorting through a file cabinet and naturally scribbled down the labels and other written things i could see on the files; 

relocate X/X/75 felix

storage K-9 07/23/1975 felix k(ranken)

Bons Burgers 06/28/1974 Jack Walten

Shipping Service 1975

New Location -> 1982

i also wrote down more goofy shit, like when banny was created for some reason; in 1974

starred, i noted to go back and reverse the audio at 5:09, when played back, i didnt write it down so i dont remember. lmao.

i also marked to screenshot and brighten the darkened image i saw at 5:20, i was going to do it on my phone then realized i can just do it on my computer so i quickly took a screenshot, brightened it and wrote down what i saw; a missing person poster that read MISSING: SUSAN WOODINGS(?) Last seen: 1974 i was very unsure of the spelling of her last name because the image was so goddamn low quality and grainy but its what i saw. this is where tape #3 gets thrown in, which im gonna type again because i like how the formatting looks;

Tape #3 - created 07/09/1978 (BEFORE tape 2?!//1/1??? its more likely than you think)

i wrote down more dates, any dates i saw, i jotted down. i wrote; 

Technical Support 1978 

then, 

Brian Stells (for some reason i dont remember right now)

alrighty this is where the stupid capitalized letters come in, but before it looks like i vomit a keysmash time infinity on this, ill put down the little inbetween things i wrote in the midst of the caps lockalypse like timestamps and stuff, so here you go;

- Reverse at 8:16 which i did but of course didnt write down what i heard. i think it was too warbled to hear anything clear out of it, or it was just the good ol auditory processing issues fucking me over yet again. WAIT yep yes i did here it is: “rosemary would go to the restaurant every night hoping that [her] beloved husband would reappear after being missing for weeks but no response until one day [s]he heard a voice [saying] ‘i know where he is rosie’ coming from the back stage” the bracketed stuff is the corrections, i misheard the audio and thought the audio said “his”, “he” and “singing” like a nimrod

- Brighten at 10:14 which was another missing person poster, but i dont think it had any information on it because i didnt write it down, just;

- Sophie again (pic at 9:08?) (dismemberd and put in Sha) i was stupid and wrong haha idiot it was rosemary who was put in sha but anywho

i starred and underlined a huge thing i discovered which was;

- Walten had 3 kids which i dont remember how i found out but it doesnt matter, its good important info i uncovered.

- Tape #4 - Unkown Date

- recorded 07/12-07/14 1978 

- Hilary B, Ashley P & Kevin W i made sure to get these names down as soon as i saw them on screen but then realized shortly after i wouldnt really need to have it as the closed captions made sure i knew which person was talking by using their first initial (capitalized of course) before each line of text. this is the perfect time to announce the arrival of the clusterfuck of capital letters, which is going to include colons which will indicate that the letter before it is the initial of the person talking. without further aedue, here comes another chinese earthquake;

TCWTSTATO(K-9)TBSSFWFCNEHAWBSUBIUC(BSIIDC)OWHISF INBIJTILNSPL(K-9)LCSCKCCCWTTLTLITTTYROTFAJAMHPYYSTCSPMBBWSBIB H:NTPPCCK:DA:HH:YCPRPMWTCBCRAWK:JH:SYYTCPBACPSTBAWCA:TK(?):FMTTCMK:TCPNOA:DTOFK:ITNPPRA:YBUTIRRFH:HKIBESRAIA:TCK:WA:WPCCFTRRIDPEH:GGK:GPA:LKK:WA:HNCGTKMK:YH:IGKA:ESK:MFH:RK:HILRLBNTRPPUWHITRRTPEIFEPH:YWBEBPK:MAHPBTRPTRPEL(LN)HTACPKLIKHPFITSKLTKLB(LB?)ISIBSUBIPRW AEBATHSPUAICTPURTWBBRPHTRTIIIILTCITCUCCP S(bpe, be)WA”IDCPBPSIB

holy shit its finally over okay now onto some MORE of what i wrote down in between and also after that keysmash attack;

12 doors? (backrooms) 27? 26? i was unsure because ashley was unsure too lmfao

found cassette (6/11/78) <- says “discard”? yeah it did

Tape in clown audio, speaking voice; jack, susan, charles(?), rosemary, sophie, last word sounds like “walrus” it was walten lmfao

Ashley died? yeah she did lmfao OR AT LEAST I THINK SO??

starred this one, Reverse @ 17:06, then got this;

“they left the next day, they thought ashley left early, but she was in the backdoors, screaming as much as she could, but no one heard the screams, the following days the caretakers would complain about an awful smell coming from the backdoors, company decided to shut down facility until new advice, the relocate project was unsuccessful. ashley is still there, but she is not screaming anymore, she saw something she wasnt supposed to see and now shes beautiful” the phrase “shes beautiful” was repeating like a bajillion times in that wall of text. then, god motherfuckng bless: 

at 17:23 i found the other half of the youtube link, “.be/k07QqEDOfQ” i pieced that bad boy together as instant as i think any form of ramen could never be, but remained ever patient. because i made sure to jot down this before moving onto my next segment;

@ end of vid 2, “shadow man sees* me when lights go off” im an idiot *it was actually “feeds” not “sees”, which AGAIN, i only found out after watching the stupid little film theory video *begins snarling and foaming at the mouth*

okay im not proud to admit im editing this to post it and realized ive lost my notes. well. 

might as well post what ive got! if i find my shit ill add onto this, i suppose.

[agerefandom]

All The Great Men

Fandom: Pinky and the Brain

Characters: Pinky & Brain

Words: 1,500

Summary: Brain is tired and stressed. Pinky’s doing his best to help. (Could be read as regression or just hurt/comfort.) 

Warnings: Idolization of military leaders. Brain is very hard on himself and has anti-regression thoughts, emotional hurt/comfort. Fear of being trapped. Mentions of experimentation and chronic pain. 

Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Charlemagne…

Brain flipped through his favourite book, searching for a section that he hadn’t already memorized. The collection of famous conquerors was something he’d read over and over again, for almost as long as he could remember. It had been a hard week, full of failures, and there was something comforting about curling up with the same great men he’d studied all his life. Tamerlane, Attila, Napoleon Bonaparte… Brain traced his hands over the names and pictures, tapping a claw on Napoleon’s hat.

Brain thought he would look nice with an official hat like that. He’d always imagined having a crown when he ruled the world, but perhaps a hat would be less chafing.

“Hey Brain!” And speaking of chafing…

Pinky clambered up to the top of the cage, his tail winding around the bars to help him stay upright as he made his way towards Brain and his book. Brain glanced towards him and then back to his page. Pinky needed attention like a sunflower needed light, but Brain was busy. Let him watch television and eat cake, or whatever brain-dimming activities Pinky enjoyed when Brain was working.

“What’cha reading? Ugh, history again? Are you trying to take a nap?” Pinky climbed onto the book, walking over Attila’s face without noticing. Brain inhaled sharply, trying not to show his indignation.

“I’ve told you, Pinky, the study of history is instrumental to understanding the nature of human submission,” Brain said. Even thinking about trying to take over the world made him feel tired at the moment. But it was the one thing Pinky may understand.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Pinky complained, flopping down on the book so that his nose almost brushed against Brain’s. Brain flinched back automatically, unprepared for the contact. “Come on, Brain, I want to play a game.”

“I am busy.” Brain couldn’t turn the pages because Pinky was in the way, so he turned his attention to the page Pinky wasn’t currently obscuring with his body. He had read this book enough times to know most of it by heart, so it didn’t feel wrong to pick up halfway through the story of Attila’s invasion of the Byzantine Empire. “You can entertain yourself.”

“But Braaaaaiiiin,” Pinky whined. Brain glanced over just at the wrong time to see his large pleading stare. A light shone in the tearful gleam of Pinky’s eyes. He did look admirably pitiful, and Brain sighed. He was well aware that it was an act, but he couldn’t say no.

However, he did pinch Pinky’s nose first to make him stop those ridiculous eyes.

“Ow!” Pinky shrieked, rubbing the sore spot and pouting. “Does that mean you’ll come play?”

“If it is the only way to get you off my very important readings, then yes, Pinky, I will come ‘play,’” Brain said, snapping the book closed. Pinky narrowly avoided being squished by the cover, darting to one side and snatching his tail out of the pages just in time. “What idiotic scheme have you concocted today?”

“Well, I thought that you could make up the game today, Brain!” Pinky clambered onto the closed book and sat on the edge with his feet dangling in the air. “You never like my ideas, so I wanted you to decide what we did!”

“I decide what we do every evening,” Brain sighed. The thought of making more decisions was exhausting.

“Yeah, but that’s work. What do you like to do for fun??”

“I like to read, Pinky.” Brain gave a significant look at the pages that Pinky was currently kicking his feet against.

“Reading is fundamental,” Pinky said, in a voice that made it clear he was quoting something from the TV. “But you must like to play sometimes!”

“Playing is for children,” Brain muttered. “I do not ‘play,’ as you say.”

“But playing is fun!” Pinky looked genuinely upset by Brain’s opinion. “You can be anything you want to be! How can you not like to play?”

“You cannot simply ‘be anything you want to be,’ Pinky. It is just a fantasy. You will never be anything more than a laboratory mouse. And that is why there is no point in playing pretend,” Brain snapped. “It makes you lose track of reality, which is that we are trapped in this cage, and unless we can change that, we will be trapped here forever.”

They could escape at night, of course, but there were trackers in their blood that Brain hadn’t yet managed to isolate. Come the morning, they were either in their cage, or they were caught and punished. There were no other options.

Brain turned away from his friend, drawing his knees up against his chest. He missed the days when his tail was flexible, an extra comfort that he could wrap around himself. Now it was permanently jagged, painful to touch. Just another piece of how the labs had changed him, taken away what he’d been.

“Brain…” Pinky’s voice came from behind him, soft and tearful. He upset Pinky again. That was fine, Pinky would forget all about the argument in a few minutes. He always did.

Sure enough, Brain only took three deep breaths before he heard Pinky scrabbling back into the cage. Good riddance, he told himself, but he could already feel the tears prickling his eyes. Stupid weakness. He rubbed his arm across his eyes impatiently, tears dampening his fur. You’re not a baby. Get a hold of yourself.

Time stretched, and Brain struggled. He refused to let himself cry, but the tears wouldn’t stop welling up. He sat in denial, unwilling to admit to the dampness he felt on his cheeks. He wished Pinky had never interrupted his reading. It had been safe in that book, with all its familiar characters of the past.

Brain didn’t know how many minutes had passed when he heard Pinky coming back. He’d probably forgotten about their fight, and was coming again to try and pull Brain into an ill-considered activity. But Pinky’s first words were a surprise.

“I’m sorry, Brain.”

Brain couldn’t turn to give Pinky an incredulous look, all too aware of the tears still weighing down the fur on his face. He could still feel the confusion twist his expression as he kept his head down. What was Pinky apologizing for, without any prompting?

“I didn’t know you thought all that. That we were trapped, and everything.” Pinky’s footsteps got closer. “I didn’t mean to push the playing, I just… it’s fun, you know? And you should have fun, Brain! It makes me sad when you’re all grumpy and tired.” That’s a fair description, Brain admitted to himself with a touch of humour. “Anyways, I brought you some cake. It always makes me feel better when I’m upset.”

Pinky’s arm came into view, holding a dainty white plate with the forementioned piece of cake. It wiggled slightly in front of Brain’s nose, the fork almost sliding off. To save the cutlery from falling back into the cage, Brain accepted the plate, holding it in front of himself. Although he didn’t turn to look, he could feel Pinky sit down beside him.

There was a moment of peaceable silence, and Brain considered eating the cake. It was clearly an olive branch, and although he didn’t particularly feel like sweets, it would be the polite thing to eat it once it had been accepted.

“Are you crying?” Pinky asked abruptly, pushing a finger into the sodden fur of Brain’s cheek. “Did I do that?”

“No, Pinky, it’s my allergies,” Brain said, shifting away from the contact. “Nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Pinky said, his voice rising. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Brain, honestly I didn’t! I just wanted to have fun with you! I wanted you to pick a game!” His arms wrapped around Brain, holding him tight.  

Brain froze, unsure of what to do. The cake in his hands made him unable to push Pinky away… or to return the affectionate gesture. The only thing he could do was sit and tolerate the embrace, for as long as Pinky desired.

It was nice, if Brain was to be honest. Pinky was always the softer of the two of them, keeping up with grooming and even seeking out products for his fur. The hug was tight and warm and maybe even a little bit comforting. Brain realized that he was leaning slightly against Pinky, a wordless acceptance of the affection.

“Thank you for the cake,” Brian mumbled. Pinky squeezed his arms around Brain, pulling him even closer and nuzzling his cheek against Brain’s.

“Any time, NARF! Any time at all.”

The two of them sat there, Brain holding a plate of uneaten cake and Pinky holding Brain. This was better than the book, Brain admitted to himself. This felt… restful. Perhaps playing wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

[bradie-valentine]

To Live in a House That is Haunted

By Bradie Valentine

The afternoon sun bakes me through the windshield as I drive towards Leah’s house. She hasn’t answered my texts in a couple of days. Not that unusual for her, even before this silence. And yet I’m still on my way to check on her. We’ve been basically inseparable since we bonded over our family troubles in grade three and this is the longest we haven’t seen each other since then. The quiet from her side of our friendship has gestated long enough.

When I pull up to her house, a wave of unease washes over me. The house looks almost the same as it usually does, but just slightly off. The grass is way too long and I can see a pile of mush near the mailbox, the storms of summer turning her mail into pulp. As I head towards the house, parting the long grass that tickles my legs, I notice the stack of oak she bought a few months ago. The wood is bloated and full of wet rot, another victim of the January showers.

Don’t get me wrong, Leah has always been quiet, reserved. But this is different. Besides the occasional ‘I’m still alive’ text, I’ve barely interacted with her in the past two months. I can’t exactly blame her though. I can understand why she hasn’t been feeling very social. Her husband, Brian, died two months ago; the death of Leah’s voice immediately following.

I was with her that day, the day cops turned up to deliver the news. We were in the lounge room, chatting about Leah’s upcoming carpentry projects when there was a knock at the door. Leah answered it, there was some muffled chatter and then a sorrowful screech, like an animal caught in a trap. I leapt up from the couch just in time to see Leah collapse in on herself. The strong statue of the woman I knew, reduced to a pile of discarded tissues; delicate and tear soaked.

It was a freak accident that killed her Brian. A bump on the head at work. Rushed to the hospital, and he was dead on arrival. We found out later that the knock had popped a massive aneurysm that was nesting between the folds of his brain.

I take a deep breath and rap on the door a couple times but Leah doesn’t answer. I pause for a few seconds, knock, pause again, and knock again. I pull out my phone and text her, a drop of sweat trickles down the back of my neck. The heat and worry working together to slick my skin. I try calling too, but the phone rings out. Usually I wouldn’t bother worrying over Leah, but since Brian, grief has metamorphosed her, leeching both her light and strength. I think I should go, maybe come back later, but then I notice the sound of music. Leonard Cohen’s deep voice emanates from within the house. I try the handle and it’s unlocked, as soon as I open the door I get hit with the foulest stench of my life, even worse than when I used to get paid to wash down animal cages at the local vet. The stench clogs my nostrils and makes my mouth water with pre-vomit saliva.

I call out to Leah and get no response in return. Covering my nose, I start down the hallway, passing picture frames filled with photos of the happy couple. I call out again and I still don’t get a reply. Oh god, I should have come sooner. As I approach the bedroom, I hear a buzzing. I can’t place it for a second, and then I realise, it’s flies, a swarm of flies.

It’s all making sense, her favourite album playing, their wedding anniversary is coming up. The stench of sickly sweet death crowding the hallway. Leah has killed herself and now a horde insects are busy getting comfortable in the rancid warmth of her lifeless corpse.

I brace myself, a few steps and I’ll be able to see the bedroom, the carnage Leah has made of herself. And then I hear a laugh, Leah's laugh. The fear mixes with confusion and I’m so disorientated, I stumble the last couple steps forward and then I see them.

Leah is lying on the bed, holding Brian’s hand. It takes me a second to realise that the swollen form on the bed is indeed Brian. The flies have made their home here a while ago. There is a split in Brian’s belly where the gasses of rot have burst him open. Maggots spill off Brian and wiggle across Leah, like they can’t even tell anymore where the death ends and the living begins.

I turn away and run for the kitchen. My stomach is roiling and lurching. I only make it halfway and end up vomiting on the floor. Bile and this morning's toast exploding from my mouth.

“Hi”

I look at Leah. She’s knobbly and bony where she used to be muscular. There’s a stain down the left side of her night gown. It’s yellowy thickness let’s me know it’s broken down fat that has leached out of Brian and onto her. As if he was trying to offer back some of the bulk that weeks in bed have taken from her.

I’m still gagging when she starts talking.

“I dug him up, after the funeral. I brought a shovel with me.”

“Why?” 

“I was getting ready for the funeral and all I could think about is how he would be so lonely in the ground. You know how much he hated being without me.”

“Leah, this is fucking crazy, you know that right? I love you but holy shit. You need help Leah… you need serious help.”

She just turns away and walks back to the bedroom. 

“Leah, stop! I’m serious.”

She doesn’t listen to me. I follow her down the hallway and watch her climb into bed next to the mass of degrading flesh in a burial suit. 

The liquid of his body has seeped into the mattress and the carpet beneath their bed. No one is ever going to be able to scrub him from the carpet or the floor below. An oily stain has spread up the wall above him, a halo made from his desecration. Brian now has a permanence he never had before. I wonder for a second what will happen to this house after they’re gone. Who would even want it now?

“Go away,” She says.

“Leah please”

She stays silent, just staring at Brian’s empty face.

“This is beyond fucked up, I’m getting you out of here. If… if you don’t come with me, I’ll call the police. They’ll be able to drag you out”

There is another long pause, and I almost think she has forgotten I’m here. She’s so clearly out of it.

“Please… please just let me say goodbye” She finally replies, “I need to say goodbye. I didn’t get to say it last time, please“

She leans in close to the bloat and starts whispering. I feel like I’m watching something I shouldn’t. I head for the front door, for fresh air. As I’m walking through the house, I realise all of the pictures on the wall that used to be of parents and cousins and nieces have been replaced. 

They’re all of Leah with Brian’s body. All taken in the house. In one, Brian is propped up on the couch. Leah is sitting straight, like she’s posing for a portrait. The self timer on her phone capturing a record of her depravity. The photos all vary in poses and states of decomposition. The latest one I find is of them in bed. Brian already shiny and slick, his body bloated and gnarled. Leah has an arm around him and her head on his chest.

The front door is calling to me, fresh air and a reprieve from the incessant vibration of insect life. I reach for the handle when I notice the frame right by the door. The photo is of Leah, Brian and I at their wedding. It was Leah's favourite of the night, the three of us caught in laughter together. I sigh and head for the lounge room instead, climb the couch and slide open the window, pressing my face to the fly screen, breathing deeply the outside air.

The light tap, tap, tap of Leah’s steps announce her presence in the hallway.

“It’s okay now,” she says, “I got to say goodbye. We can put him back and no one has to know. You don’t have to call the police or anything.”

“Leah, you dug up his body, I can’t just pretend like that didn't happen.”

“Please! If anyone finds out, they’ll put me away. I don’t want to be alone. I lost Brian, I can’t lose everyone else as well.”

She’s just standing there in her yellowed nightgown, hands wringing each other. Leah looks so young, so helpless, like she’s in third grade again. Actually, she reminds me more of myself when I was in third grade. Unsure, broken, needing someone to look after me. Leah was the one who took care of me then, she was my person. Now I have to be that for her.

“Alright,” I say, getting up from the couch, “you get the gloves and aprons, I’ll get the rope.”

Standing in the bedroom, decked out in aprons, gloves, and face masks, we stare at the pile of flesh on top of the mattress. Assessing the best course of action, I really stare at Brian. Once a man, a great man at that, he is now somewhere between human and object. Tender and fragile, a bag of rot. Meat, past its use by date. A spoiled egg, one sharp prod and he’ll pop like a runny yolk. We have to be gentle.

Next to the bed, we lay the blue tarp I grabbed from the shed across the floor. Leah climbs up beside Brian, the movement jostles him, shaking the fluid filling his skin, wobbling like an oversized hot water bottle. Bracing myself over the tarp we grab his arms and pull him towards the ground, our fingers sink into his raw sausage meat arms. He slips from our hands a couple inches from the floor, with a wet slap he hits the ground. We rear back, and Leah spews a startled cry. The gash in Brian’s stomach yawns wider and a rush of melted organs spill from his open body; a thick grotesque puff of odour erupting with it. Following closely behind, a swarm of flies and maggots escape his bodily cavity, startled from their reverie.

Shocked still for a moment, we spring to life and scramble out of the room and slam the door shut. Leah slides to the floor, moaning and crying.

“What do we do now?” She asks me.

Dropping to the floor, I gather her gently into my lap. Trying not to think about bits of Brian swill getting all over me, I pat her matted hair.

“We take care of you now, the way you took care of Brian, the way you’ve taken care of me. Whatever that means.”

“Okay,” she says, “okay.”

Once Leah is soundly asleep, I dial triple zero. The operator seems a bit surprised by the situation I describe.

“My friend dug up her husband’s dead body and had been living with it for two months, can you send an ambulance over?”

“Uh, yeah. Right away.”

Once again, Leah and I are startled by a knock at her front door. I’m the one who answers it this time. Leah stands at the end of the hallway, she must look frightening to these strangers. Gaunt and covered in sludge, sticky with the putrid stench of the death that was stewing in that once pristine bedroom. They’re gentle with her, she goes with them willingly. We finally get outside, the freshness of the crisp air disorientating. Leah stops and turns to me.

“I’m sorry for bringing you into this,” she says.

“Anytime,” I say.

We both laugh a little bit.

“Leah?”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be okay. Eventually, things will be better.”

“I know,” She says, “will you be okay, without me around?”

I think it’s a joke. Her, also trying to lighten the mood. I answer her seriously anyway.

“Yes, Leah. I think I will.”

[schrijverr]

Authentic

While writing HNOC, Jonny suddenly puts on an accent, when it isn’t well recieved at first, he gets weird. He is withdrawn and agreeble, concerned the others corner him and find out it is his original accent. He storms off and is comforted by Brian.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none really, but tell me if I missed one or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian had not been pleased when he had finally been freed from the core of the sun around which Fort Galfridean had orbited, but he’d cheered up a bit after the Mechs had agreed this tale was good enough to be told.

They’d started writing it. First getting a feel for the songs to see, which voice fitted where, shots had been fired, First Mates had died, nothing important. An outline had been made as well, giving a broad idea of the spoken parts and the songs.

Now they were sitting in a circle with their instruments, ready to try some melodies and tweak the lyrics. They had agreed on the beginning, mostly, the first part was written down and Ashes said: “I think we should have Lavinia Stone explain why they’re going to shoot.”

“You mean when she told them they could run the town if they killed her and took her sheriff star?” Brian asked.

“Yeah, that.” Ashes replied, “You know what she told them exactly?”

Brian thought for a second, then unsure said: “I think she used son of a bitch? Maybe tin star and rightwise sheriff of the town or something in that direction? Does that help?”

“Yeah, that might work.” Jonny agreed, “Uhm, what about something like this: Any sonnabitch can pull this tin star from me, makes ‘em rightwise sheriff o’ this town.”

He scratched his nose and shook his head as he whispered to himself: “No, needs a few more words.”

Clicking his tongue he thought for a second, then his face lit up and he proudly said: “Any sumbitch can pull this tin star from my stone cold hands, makes ‘em rightwise sheriff o’ this here town. ‘Cause she’s Lavinia STONE.”

The smirk turned into a frown when he looked at the others. All had a confused expression on their face, eyes filled with question marks. Jonny had no clue what that was about and muttered: “We don’t have to use that part, geez. Just tell me if it sucks.”

That snapped most out of it and Tim said: “No, it’s not that, just wow, that was weird.”

“What?” now it was Jonnys turn to be confused.

“Did you not hear what you just did?” Ashes asked.

“I suggested something for the song and you all got weird about it.” Jonny frowned, not comprehending what they were getting at.

Ashes facepalmed and Tim exclaimed: “The fucking accent, Jonny, where the fuck did that come from?”

Understanding appeared on Jonnys face and lightly embarrassed he shrugged: “Thought it might be fun. Brian said some of them talked funny and from his horrible impersonation, I gathered it sounded something like this. Besides, it adds a bit to the atmosphere, right?”

The others found that explanation enough and agreed that it did sound fun, before they moved on to the next part, squabbling like normal until Brian came in and Galahad was introduced.

Lyrics was as easy as it had ever been, which is to say not that easy but with years of practice they managed, and it was only when they did a quick test run that it went wrong. Jonny was in the middle of his part when Tim interrupted: “Do you have to give him the accent too?”

Jonny stopped mid sentence and indignantly asked: “What’s wrong with the accent?”

“It’s inconsistent.” Tim told him.

“What! My accent is not inconsistent, what are you on about?” Jonny exclaimed, getting offended and a bit of fear, that no one could place, creeping into his voice.

Brian tried to keep the peace and said: “I think what Tim means is that none of us are using an accent, so although it is accurate it might be weird that only some of the characters have it, you know?”

“Well, why don’t y’all do the accent too then?” Jonny pouted.

“Oh, really, letting it bleed over now are you. What are you trying to prove?” Tim snapped.

If anyone had been paying close attention they would have seen that Jonny flinched back slightly at that, but no one did.

“I think none of us can keep that up, Jonny.” Brian tried to placate him, “You already said I did a horrible job at it.”

Jonny sighed and moped: “Okay, fine, but I personally think it sounds better with the accent.”

“Sure, lets just start from the top again.” Ashes said.

They all got in position again and started again. This time when they got to Galahads part, Jonny played up his normal British accent as much as possible. He was stopped again, this time by Marius: “Really, Jonny? Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you don’t get to take it seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously, I did exactly what you wanted. Nothing is good enough around here.” Jonny pouted earnestly.

“Why are you so insistent on using the accent?” Marius asked him.

Jonny opened his mouth, but closed it before a sound could come out and bit his lip. He swallowed and shrugged: “I’m not, just sang like normal. But also it’s accurate? And it sounds better?”

He grabbed some notes for the next part and explained: “I mean what sounds better out of the two of these: ‘Don’t recall asking for your opinion, son.’ or ‘I don’t think I asked for you input, my friend’?”

“If you exaggerate it like that, of course it will sound dumb, but the accent you’re doing is even dumber.” Tim said, not willing to abandon his side and say Jonny was right.

Some of the others agreed and something shut behind Jonnys eyes as he relented.

The others were glad this wouldn’t end as a big fight, which would be a mess to clean up, but Jonny wasn’t the same afterwards. He kept his mouth shut most of the time, no banter and no unnecessary commentary.

They tried to go on, but with Jonnys mood it was almost impossible, so they decided to leave finishing and cultivating the first draft for later and take a break.

The moment it was decided Jonny was out of the room, yelling something over his shoulder about a smoke, despite the fact that smoking was allowed everywhere on the Aurora. No one stopped him, however, just watching him go. Tim commented: “The asshole.”

Ashes smirked and Marius rolled his eyes, but Brian was a bit concerned about their First Mates reaction. Still, he knew following him and asking if he was alright, wouldn't be appreciated, so he left him to himself, but he resolved to keep an eye on him.

It seemed to be over the next day, Jonny had shut up about the accent and everything went on as normal, he did sound more British than normal, though, but not enough to be truly notable.

There did seem to be less fighting, though. Every time it seemed a fight would’ve normally broken out between Jonny and someone else (Jonny was usually the one fighting the most), Jonny would relent and let the other do their thing.

At first, no one was questioning this sudden change of character since it made the process go a whole lot smoother. Brian had frowned at the start, but Jonny didn’t seem to mind still just grinning like normal, so he hadn’t said anything about it.

Then that changed.

They’d finished the first draft and although no one member was more important than the other, it was the collective group that made it the best. And while Jonny wasn’t always prominent in the writing of the notes you could see him reflected in the lyrics, but his presence was now obviously missing.

This became even more apparent when they played it for the first time, stopping from time to time to make notes and suggestions.

Everyone had picked up on it, everyone except Jonny apparently. He was either playing oblivious or really hadn’t noticed the others silences that he hadn’t filled when they were taking suggestions on parts he hadn’t had a say in yet.

They were a bit sick of it. Was he still mad at them for yesterday? He seemed fine, but they all had masks. Was he deliberately being an asshole in the hope they would apologize or something? No, he wouldn’t do that, well he would be a deliberate asshole, but not over this. Unless this wasn’t like normal?

“What do you think, Jonny?” Brian asked.

“Hm?” Jonny looked up, “Oh, uhm, seems fine.”

He smiled at them, but they weren’t really sure he knew what it was about with the way his eyes were a bit distant.

“What were we talking about?” Tim asked, getting a bit frustrated.

Jonny blinked and uncertainly said: “The lyrics for the song about Mordred returning to the Saxons?”

“No,” Tim sighed, “about the love song between the three Pendragons. Are you even paying attention?”

He winced and replied: “Yes, just got a tad distracted. What was the original question?”

Tim was about to get angry, so Brian intervened: “I was wondering what you thought. This part here doesn’t flow so well.”

Brain pointed at the sheet in Jonnys hand and Jonny read it out loud to himself: “Guinevere you’re my stars, Arthur you’re my night. I know we have to ride at the dawns first light. And I’m not saying that this crusade isn’t right. But first we fuel a few more sins with whiskey.”

Jonny was quiet as he thought. He seemed to come up with something, because his eyes did the light up thing they always got when he had an idea, but then they dulled and he didn’t say a thing.

After a while he shrugged and said: “I don’t know.”

Now everyone was getting worried. If there was one thing Jonny loved, it was stealing the show by coming up with something and fixing a problem. It could be annoying if it wasn’t helpful.

He did not stay silent.

“Are you sure?” Brian asked, “It seemed like you thought of something.”

Jonny bit his lip, before carefully saying: “I thought- uhm, maybe? I think I could fix it, but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

“Why do you think that? We won’t know unless we’ve heard it, so just tell us and we’ll decide ourselves.” Brian encouraged him.

Nodding slightly, Jonny started to sing: “Guinevere you’re my stars, Arthur you’re my night. I know we’ve got to ride at the dawns first light. And I ain’t saying this preacher man’s crusade ain’t right. But first we fuel a few more sins with whiskey.”

Jonny tried to gauge their reactions and quickly said: “I know y’all don’t like the accent and think it’s dumb, but the words make it fit better. Of course, we don’t have to do it. It was just a suggestion, you know.”

“No, no, that fits.” Ashes told him.

His shoulder sagged a bit with relief and he smiled at them before he wrote the new lyrics down. He did not notice he was the only one changing the lyrics.

While he was doing that, Brain and Marius shared a concerned look that the others caught on to and made them look at Jonny again and think. Then Marius said: “Hey, Jonny?”

“Yes?” Jonny asked looking up.

“Why do you know so much about this one accent and use of language?” Marius replied, immediately adding: “Not that that’s a bad thing of course, just curious.”

“I don’t know that much about it.” Jonny dodged the question.

“Yes, you do.” Tim inserted himself into the conversation as well.

Jonny huffed and crossed his arms as he said: “It doesn’t matter, why do you care so much anyway. I thought you found it dumb.”

“Because you’re suddenly acting weird after we brought it up.” Tim exclaimed.

That startled Jonny a bit, but he yelled back: “I do not.”

“Yes, you are.” Tim frowned angrily and began to list, “You’re not making useless comments, no banter, exaggerating your British accent, you’re not giving your own opinions, you’re fucking agreeable, Jonny. You’re never agreeable, so excuse us for wanting to know what the fuck is going on with you.”

“There’s nothing going on with me, I tried something and it failed, so I shut up.” Jonny spat, “I’m fine.”

“What did you try? What on earth did you try to make you act like this when it failed.” Tim had stood up now to continue their fighting match, properly.

Brian, however, wasn’t having it and pushed him back down in his seat as he shouted: “Lets all just calm down for one second, okay.”

Both took a deep breath and just glared at each other.

Gently Marius broke the silence: “Jonny, you try a lot of things that don’t succeed, why does this one bother you so much. I know Tim wasn’t the best at telling you this, but we’re just worried about you.”

Jonny swallowed heavily and blinked heavily a few times. He tried to start a few times, but then just stopped, choosing to dismiss it: “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“The more you dodge it, the more it seems like a big deal and we’re not continuing until you tell us.” Ashes told him. From where they were resting on the couch, all sprawled out, they looked like how they’d been when they were Hades. The royal feeling rolled off of them and Jonny couldn’t help, but listen.

“It’s, uhm, I’m from New Texas.” he finally settled on saying.

When that didn’t clear anything up he explained: “It’s not the same system as orbited around Avalon, but it’s close.”

The realization dawned on everyone that the accent they’d thought he’d been putting on was his original accent and the way he spoke now could be considered him putting on an accent. They’d never realized that he could have a different accent since the rest of them, except for Nastya, had the same one.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Jonny. We hadn’t realized.” Brian said.

Jonny squirmed in his place uncomfortably and shrugged: “It’s no big deal.”

“Seems like it is though, I know you don’t like me psychoanalyzing you, but this made you more upset than anything else I’ve seen.” Marius told him.

That earned him a scowl from Jonny, who replied: “Stay away from my brain, Marius. It’s none of your business.”

Meanwhile, Tim was still thinking about Jonnys change of accent without really paying attention to what the others were saying, so he blurted out: “So where did your accent go then? Nastya still had hers, despite being on this ship for quite a long time.”

The scowl deepened and Jonny said: “That’s also none of your fucking business.”

“Does it have anything to do with why you’re so upset?” Marius asked.

Completely fed up, Jonny roared: “Yes.” and stomped off.

As they watched him go, Ashes commented: “That could’ve gone a lot smoother.”

Beside them Brian pinched his nose and sighed: “Yes. Yes, it could have.”

“Should we go check on him?” Tim asked,a bit taken aback by the reaction and feeling guilty a bit too.

“No, I think we’ve done enough for today. I’ll check up on him in a few hours.” Brian told him.

The rest of the day came and went and soon it was time for Brian to see how their First Mate was fairing. He hesitated outside his room for a second, then he knocked.

It was quiet for a beat, then he hear Jonnys voice: “What do you want?”

“It’s me, Brian. I came to check up on you. I know you don’t want me to, but just open the door so I  can see you’re at least a bit okay and I’ll leave you alone.” Brian answered.

He heard grumbling, but also movement, so he smiled at his little victory.

The door slid open and Jonny looked at the ground and said: “See, I’m fine. Now go away.”

Brian raised a brow and rolled his eyes, before he squatted down a bit and gently put a finger under Jonnys chin to raise his face to make eye contact. Jonnys eyes were shining with the wetness of tears not yet fallen, but his makeup hadn’t been smudged, which Brian counted as a win.

What he didn’t count as a win, however, was that Jonny wasn’t even fighting him about this treatment. He just stood there silently and stared at Brian, all fight drained out of his body with the opening of his door.

Brian broke the silence softly: “If you want I can leave now, but I’m happy to stay. You don’t have to talk, just company.”

Jonny worried his lip between his teeth as a mental battle waged behind his eyes. Then he quietly said: “Don’t tell the others?”

“Of course not.” Brian replied with a kind smile, closing the door behind him as he lead Jonny to his bed.

Brian leaned against the wall and allowed Jonny to crawl up beside him, before pulling the blanket over the two of them. He gently rubbed Jonnys back and sat quietly with his eyes closed and his mind calm.

He knew Jonny was more tactile than he’d have you believe. All the crew was familiar with the ways he would brush up against people, accidentally bump into them or started a fistfights when he was feeling lonely.

No one ever said anything about it, but they tried their best to pander to it. Everyone had something after all.

After nearly thirty minutes of comfortable silence Jonny said: “I know it’s stupid to be upset about. I just- never mind.”

“It isn’t stupid at all.” Brian told him.

“Yes, it is.” Jonny moped, “Just because she beat it out of me doesn’t mean that it isn’t just an accent.”

He didn’t even seem to realize what he had just confessed, instead angrily staring at Brians thigh and plucking on a lose thread of Brians pants, Brian knew he would probably offer to fix it later as a thank you or apology, unable to voice it.

Brian carded a hand through Jonnys hair and said: “You know, I don’t even speak this language.”

“What?” Jonny asked, not looking up, but leaning into the touch.

“I borrowed a book from Ivy about my own planet, it talked about the language and how it’s one of the few places that hasn’t switched to Basic yet. There was a passage in the language, but I couldn't understand a word, not programmed for it, I guess.” Brian explained.

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, that sucks.” Jonny mumbled.

Brian shrugged and said: “Yeah, kind of. I know I’m not that Brain, never really was, but it still hurt. I locked myself at the helm for two months to process. Isn’t that stupid?”

“No. No, it’s not.” Jonny frowned, plucking harder, “That’s upsetting to learn, you just reacted like anyone else would.”

“You’re right.” Brian agreed, for a moment Jonny was confused, but then Brian cleared it up: “So, why is it stupid when you’re upset?”

“I don’t know.” Jonny pouted.

“You don’t have to know. Sometimes a brain is just stupid, but that has nothing to do with you. You’re allowed to just be upset.” Brian told him.

Jonny huffed: “You sound like Marius.”

“Marius isn’t always wrong, even when he is an idiot from time to time.” Brian said.

They fell into a comfortable silence again after that. The rhythmic motion of Brian petting Jonnys hair soothing them both.

Then after a while, Brian said: “For the record, I liked the accent you gave Galahad, you really sounded like him. Tim probably did too, he just wanted a fight I think.”

“Really?” Jonny asked after a beat of silence.

Brian smiled: “Yeah, really. I think that if you bring it up again, the others are probably a lot more receptive. You know how they love dramatics and what is more dramatic then an album with authentic vocabulary and accents just for accuracy?”

Jonny grinned: “Not much.”

“Exactly.” Brian nodded, then he stayed silent until Jonny had fallen asleep.

The next morning the two of them made their way to breakfast. Jonny was his chipper self again and bounced around Brian as he excitedly told him about the dream he had in which it had been him against an entire army, pretty violent over all, but Jonny had won and found himself quite the badass, despite the fact that it was a dream and he had not actually done that.

He didn’t even notice how the others lost their tenseness when he’d come in. All had been afraid that he would still be upset, but it seemed Brian had been a good influence.

They all ate, before going back to the practice room. The plan was to start going over everything again, just the next draft until everything was perfect, but before they could start Jonny nervously asked: “Hey, uhm, I was just wondering if y’all’d be okay if I tried the accent again with Galahad. I think it would enrich the album and if all y’all don’t like it, we can scrap it again.”

“I think that would be a great idea, Jonny.” Marius smiled at him.

Relief washed over Jonnys face and he smiled back.

In the end they kept the accent in there and watching Jonny go apeshit every single time he got to perform Hellfire was completely worth it.

[brain-jarred]

Chapter 5. Cactus

Light. Not filtered through darkened glass or produced artificially. Real actual light. It was morning, and the sun was just beginning to rise. Hal began to run away from the facility, trying to cover as much distance away from it as possible. Param followed. They ran until the facility was a good distance away, and then they stopped. Hal looked at the sun, and then immediately regretted it. “Ow.” He said, rubbing his eyes. “What?” Param asked, concerned.

“The sun hurts my eyes, don't look at it.” Param just stared at Hal before also looking at the sun. They not only looked at it, they stared at it, confused. “It’s not hurting my eyes.” They said, “It must be because you still have human eyes, and I have the clearly superior robot eyes. “I dont care.” Hal said, continuing to walk. “We just escaped certain death, and we almost killed a child. I was afraid you were going to just be okay with going through with it.” “Uh.” Param looked surprised. “What!? No. I wouldn't be okay with that. I was afraid that you would be okay with it, and then I would have to go along with it.” They said, trying to hide the fact that they really didn't see any issue in it. Like it was just their job? But seeing Hal’s face back there… It made them not want to be like this.

They wondered how Hal did it, how he could be so callous yet caring. It was easy to see him as the cold one out of the two of them, it was easy to see him as the brains, and Param as the heart, but that really wasnt true. Hal still clung stubbornly onto his humanity, where Param only had small scraps of it left. Most of these scraps only remaining for Hal’s sake. 

But enough about that, they were out there. Outside. Param took a moment to look at their surroundings. The sunrise casted oranges and pinks across the sky and ground. And...sand. The ground was very sandy, and there was a strange- wait. “Oh my gosh, that's a real life cactus!” Param said, rushing over to the plant.

“Why are you like this- wait that's actually kind of cool-” Hal looked away and sighed. They had to admit, it was cool to see something new, even if it was a bit stupid to dilly dally when they were more than likely being chased right now.

“We need to focus.” He said, putting a hand on Param’s shoulder. “We can't mess around with a cactus, not when we are on the run like this.” Param made direct eye contact with Hal as they ripped off a chunk of the cactus. “Why.” Hal said exasperated. “You never know.” And then param walked away. “Wh- Where are you even going to put it?” Hal asked, following param. “Where do you think?” Param opened up their chest cavity and put the cactus in with the extra Nutrient Solution they always kept there.  “Okay then.” Hal said, accepting this. “Listen. We can't get distracted by random stuff, trust me, I am also tempted to lick the sand right now, but I won't, because I have a thing called self restraint.” “Why do you want to lick the sand?!” Param questioned. 

“WE CAN'T GET DISTRACTED!!” He dodged the question. He took a deep breath. “We are in a serious situation and I feel like you're not being serious.” Param was quiet for a moment.

 “Hal.” They began. “This is the worst day of my life. Everything I have ever known has crumbled around me. I don't know what we are going to do, I don't know if I will even make it out of this alive, I probably won't. I don't have much faith in that. I just...I want to spend what little time I have left having fun with you. I just want to savor this.” They said sincerely. 

And finally they broke down. “I’m so fucking scared, Hal.” They said, wrapping their arms around themself. “I'm scared and I don't want to die.” 

Hal hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. They continued to walk as he leaned against Param. “Me too. I'm scared too.” he admitted. “I'm terrified of either of us dying. I don't want to lose you! That's why I am so focused on us getting away from that place because I don't want you to get captured.” He explained. 

“Maybe you think it's inevitable that they're gonna get us - and maybe it is- but look at us right now! Look at how far we’ve gotten. This is the farthest we've ever been from that place. I say that we keep pushing our luck. We can savor everything when we are safe.” Hal said, offering a reassuring smile with his eyes. Param thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. You're right. Let’s get to walking then.” “We are already walking.” Hal said, trying to lighten the mood. “You know what I mean.” Param smiled.

And so they walked. And walked. And walked. The sun rose and it bore down upon them, Param was unaffected by the heat, but Hal was another story. “Slow...slow down.” Hal said, stumbling after Param. His movements were sluggish, the two had been walking for an hour and a half at this point. “What's wrong? Did you look at the sun again?” Param asked, concernedly looking back at Hal. Hal stopped for a moment to just catch his breath. “It's too hot out here, the sun is cooking my brain.” He was exaggerating somewhat, but it really did feel like way. The psychic ectoplasm that made up his body wasn't able to sweat or cool him down. He dropped to his knees. “Oh jeez. Uh. Hm.” Param tapped their chin. They took a moment to consider their options. “Ok! I got it.” They said, snapping their fingers. They then leaned down, and picked up Hal, who immediately stood up. “Oh, uh. No thanks.” He said, wrenching himself away. He felt weird about letting Param carry him and he would rather not deal with those emotions at that second. He stood up, willing himself not to fall over again. “Alright then, get cooked then.” Param shrugged, and then started walking away. 

Hal followed.

And so the sun continued its path in the sky, eventually after a whole day of walking and mindless conversation, the sun dipped below the horizon. “We should probably stop.” Hal said, resting a hand on a rock. He looked really haggard, and his body was goopy. It left a blue residue on the rock where he sat his hand. “Yeah...I’m getting a bit tired.” Param admitted. They sat down. They were slightly nervous when the sun began to set, they didn't like the dark very much, but it was okay since the moonlight illuminated the desert well enough. Still, it put them on edge despite this. They didnt know why they were afraid of the dark. Hal also sat down, his lab coat was stained blue with all the sweaty psychic residue. He leaned back and sighed, glad to finally be out of the heat. A few stars poked out of the sky, tiny white dots in a sea of indigo The two just sat there for a few moments. The desert was quiet, and the research facility was far beyond the horizon, that place the two had lived in for the entirety of their living memories was out of sight now. Param was starting to regret leaving. Sure, killing an innocent child wasn't something that they liked, but she had only been one person! The rest of the people that they did vivisections on were guilty or already dying, it was fine! Everything had been fine. Param turned away from Hal, and sighed. Why? Why had such a simple look made Param throw away their entire work life? Now they were stranded in the desert, with no real sign of civilization. Maybe Param should have just ignored it. Maybe they should have shot Hal a glare, mentally told him to suck it up, and went through with the procedure-

“Hey Param? Can I have some of those uh- solution packets?” Hal asked, interrupting Param’s ugly thoughts. “Oh- Sure.” Param took out one of the packets and handed it to him, they then looked away into the distance, back the way they came. They looked and saw no sign of civilization, no sign of home. They just wanted to go home, and wanted this nightmare to be over. They just wanted a world where they weren't so impulsive, so reckless and foolhardy that they threw a fucking bonesaw at Dr. Brian. Dr. Brian was pretty nice, despite his cold exterior, Param knew that. They knew that this was the wrong way, this was the wrong path to take. But there was no going back. And so they laid down their head and sighed, trying to ignore Hal’s presence, trying to ignore the part of them that didn't regret it at all.

[andormeddows]

Pull it! ::: Ben Hardy

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Ben and the reader both have a hair-pulling kink, but try to hide it. One night, they’re making out and he pulls the reader’s hair a bit, causing her to moan. She quickly get embarrassed and try to hide it, but it won’t last long until both of them are shagging. Lots of hair pulling, then. Smut!

Word count: 4629

Warnings: Strictly 18+. I don’t want minors interacting with this piece of writing. Hair-pulling kink. There’s a lot of swearing. Also, dirty-talking, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, please!).

Notes: I hope this turned out well… I’m sorry for taking so long to write this, but thank you so much for requesting it, Anon! Either way, I’ve sinned and I’m taking you all down with me! Hope you like it! Feedback is always appreciated!

Masterlist is here!

It happened for the first time on a wintry night. You and Ben were snuggled up together on the couch as the wind blew against the windowpanes. Steaming mugs of tea were propped on the coffee table, as were your feet, wrapped up in fuzzy socks. Your head rested against Ben’s chest as one of his hands slowly and absentmindedly caressed your neck, a few locks of hair intertwined on his fingers. Sherlock played on the television. You convinced Ben to start watching it, so there he was, watching the first episode for the first time as you watched it for up-tenth time. No regrets.

“Isn’t it amazing?” you asked when the credits rolled over on the screen, sitting up on the couch and quickly turning to Ben. Your voice was filled with enthusiasm, eyes ablaze with happiness. “I mean… I…”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Ben answered, lovingly gazing at you. Your enthusiasm was contagious. “It is amazing. I loved it.”

“Did you really?” you asked suspicious, squinting your eyes as you pulled one of the mugs towards your lips.

“Yeah, I did!” he laughed, pulling, too, the other mug towards his lips.

“Thank you,” you uttered, smiling and pecking his lips after taking another sip from the steaming drink in your hands.

“You’re welcome, love,” Ben whispered against your lips.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, shyly smiling. Ben bit his bottom lip as he averted his gaze to your reddened lips due to the contact of the steaming tea with them. Fuck. The sight of him biting his lips in a half smile was a masterpiece. His blue eyes kept focused on your lips as he abandoned the mug in his hands on the coffee table. His warm hands reached for your face, cupping it and gently pulling it towards his. Your lips touched again in a tender kiss.

After quickly abandoning your mug too, your hands reached for his arms, covered by a comfortable hoodie, pressing against them in an approving gesture. Your thumbs slowly grazed on the soft fabric of the hoodie, caressing his arms. He smiled once again, breaking the kiss to admire you. His hands still firmly cupping your jaw, Ben pressed his forehead against yours and his blue eyes bore into yours in a look of utter love.

“I love you,” you uttered, pulling him closer and enlacing your arms around his neck. Unprepared for that sudden gesture, he gasped and laughed against your cheek before quickly pecking it.

“I love you, too, dork,” he kissed the corner of your lips.

Caressing the soft skin of his neck, you pressed a passionate kiss to his lips. It soon escalated to a deeper kiss as his tongue entered your mouth and you hummed in appreciation. Your breaths ran short as your noses bumped slightly against each other as the kiss intensified and saliva was smeared across your lips.

Your hands cupped his face, fingers pressing against his jawline as his hands reached your hair. Oh, fuck. You melted under his touch, feeling intense shivers run through your whole body as if they were an electric current. His fingers slowly tangled in your locks, caressing your scalp. It was happening again.

Having a hair-pulling kink was something you'd never admit. So, every time Ben would tangle his hands in your hair and softly pull at your locks, you would prevent some of the filthiest moans to escape from your lips. All of the fibers in your body fought against the urge to let yourself get lost in pure bliss because of his fingers working on your hair. The truth was that you felt embarrassed because of it, ashamed of it. Who on Earth would have a hair-pulling kink?

You had. Ben too.

You inhaled sharply, interrupting the kiss as his fingers slightly pulled at your locks. Fuck. Arousal exploded through your veins and your surroundings spun fast. Breath hitching in your throat, you threw your head back. Your eyes were closed in pure bliss, completely lost in his touch. What was happening? You should be trying to hide it from him. However, there you were, letting your emotions and sensations break free. He bit his lips, pulling at your locks once again in order to bring your lips to his.

It was when it happened.

A loud and filthy moan escaped from your lips as your eyes remained closed and all your brain could focus was on his fingers pulling at your hair and caressing your scalp.

“Fuck, Ben,” you whispered against his lips, almost whining at the pleasure those gestures brought to your entire body.

Ben froze on the spot after hearing those noises and words leaving your lips. He gazed at you, brows slightly furrowed and cheeks boring a light shade of pink. Heart racing inside your chest and against your ribs, you opened your eyes as adrenaline exploded through your veins. What had just happened?

Suddenly, your hands desperately reached for his, pulling them from your hair as your cheeks burnt in shame. You couldn’t bear to look at him as you felt his gaze on your anxious features, not after that moan. Not after revealing your weird hair-pulling kink. Your hands pressed against his in an anxious gesture, gently holding them down against your legs.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered almost inaudible. “This is embarrassing.”

Ben gulped, realization hitting him. “I guess I’m the one who should apologize.”

He wasn’t sure why he said it, it felt so wrong. Arousal pulsed in his body as that moan, your moan, repeatedly echoed in his mind like a symphony. Licking his lips, he exhaled heavily while his eyes wandered through your ashamed figure, your fingers nervously playing with his. The only reason why those words felt so wrong was because Ben had a hair-pulling kink either. Even though both of you tried to hide it, it was so obvious. So obvious.

His cheeks still bore a light shade of pink as he pictured your bodies tangled on the couch, his hands roaming through your soft hair while he slammed into you and heard you moan eagerly. Oh, well. He pictured you riding him, sweaty chests pressed against each other as his hands caressed your thighs and your hands buried deep in his blonde locks.

Neither of you bring the incident up during the following days. God, no. You still felt embarrassed about what had happened a few nights prior and Ben would never admit that he wanted your hands tangled in his hair so much he could orgasm just from imagining it. The next nights you spent at your apartment were lonely to say the least. You felt constantly aroused by the fact that you both had a hair-pulling kink, although you wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud. Picturing Ben pulling at your hair as his cock slammed hard into you was enough to oblige your hands to roam through your own body.

It happened again when you met him while visiting the set. At the end of the day, after long hours of filming, you were supposed to head to your parents’ house for a simple dinner. It had been a while since you both paid a visit to them, which lead to arranging that dinner. Instead, you both ended up in his trailer, lost in each other’s arms.

Ben had just been back from one of the dressing rooms in order to abandon the Roger Taylor persona and you were waiting for him inside sitting on the couch, ready to go. After walking around the set all day and standing aside while filming, your knees slightly hurt. A soft knock on the door tore your concentration away from the script in your hands that you had been reading. Ben quickly marched up the steps, opening his arms to receive you in a tight embrace.

“Could barely talk to you,” he whispered against your hair as his hands ran down your back, stopping when he reached your lower back, almost squeezing your bum.

“You know that’s not a problem. I knew you would be busy filming,” you replied, pecking his lips and handing him his brown leather jacket. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, stepping away from you and reaching for the script you had left on the couch. “Just needed to get this. Were you reading it, by the way? I always leave it on the table.”

Your soft laugh reached his ears as you nodded. “It’s a metaphor, Brian!”

Ben smiled at your silly impersonation, rolling his eyes at the deeper tone in your voice. “We’re actually recording this scene tomorrow.”

“Are you?” you asked enthusiastically. “It’s one of the funniest scenes I’ve read so far if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, it is,” he shook his head, a low laugh escaping from his lips as he remembered rehearsing that scene with Joe, Gwil and Rami. “The problem is I always forget the beginning of it,” he confessed, averting his gaze to the sheets in his hands. “‘Put my heart and soul into this song.’ as I cut slices of bread.”

“You’ll do fine, Ben,” you reassured him, crossing the narrow trailer in his direction and gently pulling the script from his hands, leaving it on the table. Then, you softly squeezed his hands in a caring gesture.

“Do you think so?” he inquired unsure, stepping closer to your body and causing you to avert your gaze to his lips.

“I’m certain of it,” you whispered, running your hands up his arms and softly gripping his biceps.

He pressed his lips against yours. Eyes closed, you both kissed slowly. Your noses slightly bumped against each other every so often and your breaths hit each other’s skin as you exhaled silently. His tongue traced your lips, entering your mouth while his hands gently pulled your body towards his. You bumped against his chest and one of your arms embraced his neck, hand reaching for his nape. Your other hand reached for his face, delicately touching his cheeks and running your fingers down to his jawline. Soft whimpers left your mouth.

“We should get going or else we’ll be late,” your voice sounded loud when you uttered those words, drowning the quiet kissing noises that had been reaching your ears. Wrong. You wanted to stay, you needed to stay. Your mind wandered to scenarios where you straddled Ben and rode him as he sat on the very couch behind him. He would pull at your hair and press his lips against your jawline down to your collarbones as your fingers slowly scratched his nape.

“Oh, please,” he murmured against your lips, reaching for your chin and tilting your head towards his. His blue eyes met yours, searching for the same eagerness, for the same will to stay behind and never show up to that dinner. He obviously found them, which caused him to smirk as anticipation filled his veins.

You pressed your lips together in a thin line as you rested your hands on his chest and gently pushed him against the couch behind him. He landed on its surface with a soft thud. His hands caressed your arms down to your hands, pulling you towards his body and in between his legs. A smirk was plastered on his lips. His hands reached for your ass, squeezing it delicately before moving up to your lower back. Ben’s fingers played with the hem of your shirt, traveling underneath it.

“Come on,” he uttered against your belly as he pressed feathery kisses on your skin.

“You’re going to call my parents later,” you said, quirking your eyebrows and propping your hands on his thighs. You bended down to press your lips against his in a passionate, but eager kiss. “Oh, I hope you’re a marvelous actor to convince them we weren’t actually shagging instead of visiting them.”

“Of course, ma'am.”

You smiled widely against his lips at those words, slowly straddling him. Your hands cupped his face and your tongues moved against each other in an eager kiss. It deepened until filthy kissing noises reached your ears.

“This is nuts,” you breathlessly uttered. “People might hear us.”

Ben warmly laughed, pressing his hands against your ass. “Nobody’s hearing us.”

“The boys are still here!”

Ben smirked and quirked his eyebrows while admiring your slightly worried features. “What if they do hear us? Do you want them to?”

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply at the raspy tone in his voice. Should you say it? Before your brain could even process the words, they quickly left your lips. “If you pull my hair, everyone will be hearing us.”

With that, Ben tightly hugged you, eliciting a surprised squeal from your throat. He pressed your chest against his and reached for your neck, pressing his lips against it in a chaste kiss before massaging your skin with his tongue. You hummed in appreciation. “Damn, YN. Who would tell you would have a hair-pulling kink?”

You closed your eyes, exhaling deep. Your lips were slightly open as Ben nipped at your neck, glancing at your features in order to watch the effect those words had on you. Such a marvelous sight. You shivered and exhaled in pleasure as he kept biting your skin and sucking at it, reaching all possible spots that made you elicit quiet whines. Ben slowly reached the junction between your neck and your shoulder, pulling at your shirt collar to get to your collarbones.

Your chests were still pressed together; his hands eagerly squeezed your thighs, cupping your ass every so often. Your elbows were propped on his shoulders as your fingers tangled in his hair. He hissed loudly when you closed one of your hands in a fist around his locks, pulling them rather harshly.

“Guess I could say the same about you, yeah?” you teased, tilting your head to one side as his lips traveled from your collarbones to your jawline, leaving a trace of saliva behind. “Do you like it, Ben? Do you like it when I pull your hair?”

Shivers ran through his whole body as you pulled his hair once again. He let out a raspy moan, blinking hard and resting his forehead on one of your shoulders, it was almost too much. You pressed your lips against the spot right below his ear in feathery kisses.

“Oh, Ben,” you whispered in his ear, nipping at his earlobe and letting out a throaty chuckle. “You love it, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, YN,” he answered breathless, shutting his eyes close when your hips stuttered against his crotch.

You both whined loudly at the so needed friction as you started grinding against him. Head thrown back in pleasure, his sharp jawline was exposed to you, muscles moving as he gulped. You didn’t waste time in pressing your lips against his neck, licking his skin, sucking at it and slightly biting it. His hands gripped the hem of your shirt, pulling at it anxiously.

“Take it off already!” you whined against his neck. He let a raspy chuckle leave his lips, slowly pulling your shirt up, fingers digging in your skin.

He threw your shirt to the side, which landed uncertain on the couch arm, almost falling to the ground. His fingers wandered over your back, once again pressing your body against his until they reached your bra, eagerly fumbling with it in order to unclasp it.

“It’s not that hard,” you provoked, guiding your own hands to your back.

Ben pulled at the straps on your shoulders, taking the opportunity to sensually caress your arms as he got rid of your bra. His lips reached your chest, sucking at one of your breasts while nearing your nipple. They wrapped around one of them teasing it by flicking his tongue against the hardened nub.

“O-Oh…” he inhaled sharply, voice crackled with pleasure. Your hands had reached for his hair once again.

You kneeled up on the couch, legs pressing the cushions below your sweaty bodies, in order to level your bare flushed chest with Ben’s face. He smirked, ghostly dragging his fingers down your back as you melted into his touch.

He squeezed your ass slightly before pressing his palms under its curve and slowly changing positions on the couch. He carefully pushed your body against the cushions, making sure that your head rested against some of the thrown pillows so that you would be comfortable.

“A bloody masterpiece,” Ben whispered as he watched your half-naked body under the dimly yellow light on the ceiling.

You both undressed each other quickly. Clothes discarded on the ground, Ben spread your legs open and climbed onto you, getting in between them. Your lips met again in a messy kiss and he didn’t waste time in rolling his hips against your throbbing core. He guided his hands to your hair, fingers buried deep in your locks, which caused you to slightly arch your back in pleasure.

“Y-Yes,” you exhaled. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Am I?” Ben chuckled, tongue grazing over his reddened lips.

“If you keep pulling my hair like that,” you whispered hoarsely in his ear after kissing the spot right below it.

As his hands wouldn’t stop softly pulling at your locks, your hands reached in between your bodies and slipped in his boxers, slightly grazing at his cock. His hips stuttered at the sudden contact, which caused his fingers to tightly close around strands of your hair.

“Ben.” you moaned quietly.

You sensed his breath hitch in his throat. Ben gulped quietly, intently watching you. His intense blue eyes locking with your as he gripped your wrist gently and pulled your hand away from his cock.

“You first, love,” Ben pressed his lips against yours, biting your bottom lip and slightly tugging at it.

With that, he pulled himself up and kneeled on the ground, snaking his arms around your legs and bringing your aching core closer to his face. You propped your dazed body on your elbows, eyes ranking at his flushed body, blonde hair disheveled due to all your previous pulling. You intently watched every single one of his moves, loving the tingling sensation that his touch caused on your body. Both of Ben’s hands were on your thighs now, massaging your skin as his mouth pressed kisses against it. Your breath hitched. Ben’s lips approached your aching core, and, in anticipation, you bucked your hips slightly.

“So eager,” Ben chuckled, rubbing his fingers against your folds, feeling your wetness when he licked your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. Your body fell backwards in pleasure and your hands instantly reached for his hair. You both moaned loudly. “Fuck, YN,”

Your heart raced inside your chest and you smiled wide, feeling a thin layer of sweat spread across your body. His lust blown eyes locked with yours when he hooked two of his fingers on the waistband of your panties before pulling them down your legs. Once again, he kissed your thighs, ghostly grazing his teeth over your hot and bothered skin. He rubbed two of his fingers against your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves, which had you whimpering and pulling his blonde locks.

For a moment, Ben thought it was all too much. He obliged himself to close his eyes and rest his forehead against your thigh, inhaling deeply. Harshly biting his bottom lip, he prevented hoarse moans and whimpers from escaping the back of his throat due to the intense tingling sensation that ruled his body as you kept pulling at his hair. He felt dizzy, lost in pure bliss.

Clenching his jaw every so often, he dragged his lips to your pussy while his fingers still worked against your folds. He slowly licked her pussy, pressing his tongue in between her folds and reaching her clit. He, then, wrapped his lips around it, causing you to hiss and let a breathless chuckle escaped from your lips.

“Ah, yes!”

At every pleasurable remark that fell from your lips, Ben’s cock would twitch, pressing against the soft fabric of his boxers, almost aching from the amount of pleasure that exploded through his veins.

“Look at you, Ben,” you teased breathless, eagerly grinding your cunt against his lips. Your hips stuttered at the amount of pleasure that filled your veins. “All lost in pleasure just from me pulling at your hair?”

Ben whined against your folds, causing your hips to desperately buckle and the tip of fingers to slightly enter you. “Fuck.”

“What about you?” he murmured, intently watching his fingers tease your entrance, circling it painfully slow. “So desperate for me to touch you. My fingers aren’t buried in your hair yet, but you’re already dripping, love. Will you last any longer? Will you last long for me to fuck you while tangling my fingers in your hair and pull it at every trust?”

You gulped a filthy moan as he pushed half of his middle finger into you. Eyes closing shut, head being thrown back and lips slightly open, Ben smirked, licking his lips. You would elicit needy whimpers and moans, arching your back in pleasure as he pumped his finger into you. Your tight walls hugged it and clenched around it. Ben exhaled heavily, his hot breath fanning over your clit while he watched his finger bury deep into you. His cock twitched desperately.

You could barely handle your frustration at the slow pace in which Ben moved his finger. Your juices spread through your folds, smudged at your thighs and mixed with Ben’s saliva as he, once again, wrapped his lips around your clit. You bucked your hips against his tongue, crying out at the sudden wave of intense pleasure.

“Bloody hell,” Ben whispered, breath hitching because of a harsh pull at his locks and finger stuttering inside of you. He was obviously desperate; you couldn’t hold back a smirk at his frowned features, lips pressed together in a thin line.

Ben almost cried at the lack of attention to his throbbing cock. The frustration was so unbearable that he quickly guided his other hand down his body, harshly tugging at his hardened member.

“God, yes,” he laughed lost in pure bliss and closed his eyes, body almost combusting in pleasure. He increased the pace of his pumping into you after adding another finger.

“O-Oh…” you cried out, clenching around his fingers as your orgasm built up, the burning sensation in your stomach increasing inhumanly. “Fuck, fuck! Oh, fuck.”

“People might hear us!” Ben provoked.

“Idiot,” you mumbled almost incoherently while propping yourself on your elbows once again and averting your gaze to his fingers pumping in and out of you. Wet sounds echoed around the silent trailer.

Ben’s muscles burned. Having reached inside his boxers, apart from pleasuring you, he pleasured himself, fingers smearing pre-cum through his shaft as they tightly wrapped around it. His blue eyes locked with yours. Both of you had your mouths slightly open, letting whimpers and moans freely echo around.

“Ben!” you screamed loudly, one of your hands reaching for his wrist, tightly wrapping around it and hips buckling once again.

Ben felt the desperation in your voice in his bones, causing his hips to stutter. He was quick to remove his fingers from you. Your peaking orgasm quickly descended at the sudden lack of contact and you whined continuously. Ben shakily got up, knees red because of the time he had knelt in front of you.

He tugged his boxers down as you dragged your weakened self up on the couch and reached for him. “Come here.”

Fingers intertwined, you pulled Ben towards you. He thirstily cupped your face, reaching for your lips and kissing them so fiercely it almost hurt. Your teeth grazed against his and your tongues desperately tangled. Breaths uneven through the kiss, Ben moved forward to sit on the couch. You were quick to straddle his lap and tug at his member. He threw his head back in a silent moan, carding his fingers through your hair.

His jaw clenched as you lowered yourself on his cock, earning a strangled moan from him while a satisfied whimper left your lips. Your walls deliciously wrapped around his shaft, which almost caused Ben to lose it. You slowly moved against it, feeling him heavenly stretch your walls. His hands firstly squeezed your ass, but where quick to reach your hair.

“Y-Yes,” you hissed, a smile finding its way to her lips.

“God, I wish you could see what I see,” Ben’s eyes hungrily watched your body bounce on his cock. “So deliciously fucking yourself, aren’t you?”

He pulled at your locks, bringing your lips to his. Your back arched intensely as he started thrusting into you, meeting your own thrusts. Your orgasm was building up once again as was his. Ben swallowed the soft whimpers that fell from your lips as he kissed you hungrily and continued to softly scratch at your scalp. His lips worked against the corner of your parted lips, tracing down to your jawline, reaching the spot below your ear.

Your chests were pressed together, sweat covering them. Your hardened nipples grazed against his skin as you arched your back in pleasure. Ben slightly pulled your head to the side, giving him access to your neck once again, kissing down until he reached your shoulder blades tracing a patch to the junction between your shoulder and neck while he reached the same pleasurable spot over and over again.

Your fingers tightly closed around Ben’s strands of hair once again. But at that, his hips jerked upwards, thrusting deeper than ever, which caused you to cry out his name, cursing incoherently and a strangled moan fell from his lips.

“Shit. Shit, YN,” he repeated in a slurred tone as your walls insistently clenched around his cock. “You feel so good…”

“Y-Yeah?” you mumbled, a dazed smile on your features. Your eyes were closed in pure bliss and you eagerly reached for your clit with one of your hands, rubbing your fingers at a fast pace against them.

Your nails dig into Ben’s scalp, fist closed around his hair, which sent him over the edge. Chasing his orgasm, his hips stuttered and his breath was shallow. The pleasure exploding in his veins was so intense Ben felt dizzy again, his muscles all burning in pain due to the repeated movements of his hips.

You reached your orgasm panting and burying your face into Ben’s neck. Your brain couldn’t process the intense sensations that waved through your body. Your fingers insistently rubbed against your clit slowly stopped moving. Ben didn’t waste time to softly pull your hair one last time, increasing the intensity of the waves of pleasure crashing into your body. He weakly thrusted into you while you reached the stars. You moaned and whimpered Ben’s name desperately, letting the words fall from your lips in a cascade of pants.

You could tell he was close. He threw his head back in your hands, falling into your touch. You scratched his scalp, leaving open-mouthed kisses to his neck. Your walls tightened around his shaft, causing him to come in hot spurts inside of you, groaning incoherently.

“God… ” Ben hoarsely laughed, caressing your back reassuringly while your body collapsed onto his. You both breathed in deeply in an attempt to recover your breath. Sweat glistened on your foreheads and drenched your bodies.

“It was amazing, Ben,”

“Why did we have to hide it?” Ben whispered against your skin as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I just know hiding kinks isn’t happening anymore.”

[angrylizardjacket]

only fools {Dominique Beyrand}

Summary: You’re in love with Roger’s new girlfriend. Is it easier to pretend you don’t have feelings or come clean? You say both, eventually! The truth is bittersweet.

A/N: 4331 words. ANGST!! I don’t know much abt Dominique so this is based 100% on borhap, tho there’s a few bits abt the band from real life, but its borhap based for the most part. i hope you like it!! i’m pretty sure the reader is gender neutral, but there may be 1 or 2 female pronouns accidentally. there’s mentions of cheating.

----

You’ve been friends with Queen for arguably too long, know them now in excruciating and almost intimate detail, and are absolutely immune to their various charms and stardom. It started in university, with you as a popular radio jockey on campus, and living in a flat around the corner from Freddie and Roger’s little market stall in Kensington. 

You know of their band, of course, you’ve always got your ear to the ground for local talent, and you jokingly tell them that if they ever get an album together, you’d be the the first to play it. A year and a half later, they hold you to that. 

When they’re making it big in the mid-70s, and you’ve scored your own show on an actual radio station, they start turning to you when they want to release a single, or give an interview, and people start asking why. You simply shrug and smile, which is easier than explaining that you’d spent a good deal of your second year of uni bothering Freddie and Roger at their stall instead of doing your homework, and somehow that became a friendship, and now you and John have tea every Monday afternoon, and Brian tried to teach you guitar once, but ended up waxing poetic about his thesis when you noted that his desk was rather messy.

So yes, you know them rather well, since the start of the band’s musical career, in fact, and have witness, and occasional party to, some of their dumber, post-gig antics, which has given you both regrets, and immunity to their antics. Never again will you be Roger’s look out when he climbs to a third story balcony for a girl - he lost a shoe on the second floor and it hit you in the back of the head. Prick. 

Which makes it rather unfortunate that you’ve taken such a liking to his latest girlfriend. At first you tell yourself that it’s simple and platonic appreciation for another individual with a head on their shoulders, that you liked her in the same way that you like John or Brian when they were being sensible. When you go out with the band, which isn’t a lot these days, but still it’s enough, she seems to make a point of including you, of smiling at you like a friend though you barely know each other. 

Always, she is by Roger’s side, and you think this is the first time you’ve seen him properly smitten, which makes it ache, in such a strange way, when she smiles back at him. You’ve never felt like this over Chrissie, or Veronica, or Mary. But you push it down, and when they invite you to go to their concerts, you find yourself in the wings by her side, and you dance with her at the afterparties when she offers her hand, and she invites you to lunch to catch up every few weeks.

It’s perfectly harmless, you tell yourself as you actively repress the strange sort of desire she unknowingly elicits from you. 

There’s something about her, beyond a pretty face, and a vicious smile, more than her sharp wit and dangerously intoxicating perfume, like she could ask you to walk over hot coals and you’d crawl to make her happy.

When she laughs over lunch, like actually laughs, full-bellied, head thrown back, glowing in the afternoon sunshine at something you’d said, you suddenly remember every stupid and horny antic Roger has ever been party to, often at the expense of whatever girl he was meant to be seeing at the time, and you want to tell Dominique to run fast and far, to try and protect her. But Roger’s told you he’s changed, that he’s in love, and you grit your teeth.

You’re kind of fucked.

And there’s no-one in your life who you can talk to without being judged for feeling like this. 

So you take what you can get. 

You go out with the band when they invite you, you catch up with Dom often when they go on tour, and you realise, with a strange and painful clarity, that she’s become your best friend.

“How come you’ll agree to help Dom with shenanigans, but not me?” Roger plays at being jealous of your not-so-secret favoritism, his arm around Dominique in a hotel bar that had been closed for a private, Queen function, currently buzzing with the band members, their various significant others, members of the press, members of their tour group, and management team. And you. 

You and Dominique share an amused, almost conspiratorial look. 

“Because I actually like her,” you tell Roger, flatly, and he raises is eyebrows when you look back at him. You don’t miss Dominique’s pleased little smile that she hides in her glass.

“That’s just about the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he shakes his head, clearly not actually taking your words to heart, but you huff a laugh.

“And her shenanigans never landed me in the emergency room -”

“Hey, I was the one with the sprained ankle -”

“You acted like you were dying, Rog,” you sighed deeply, “you tried to bribe me to run a red light,” and Dominique gives her boyfriend a surprised, vaguely judgmental look as Roger quickly turned pink.

“I was in grave pain.”

“Darling, you are a grave pain,” Dominique told him sweetly, and Roger pressed his hand to his chest, scandalised. 

“Et tu, my love?” 

But Dominique’s looking at him all fond and sappy when she tells him that you’ve got a point; you excuse yourself right as Roger lowers his voice and reminds her that there’s times she seems to think he’s pretty great, voice laced with heavy innuendo. 

You’re discussing the band’s latest album with their sound tech when Dominique finds you again, looking recently debauched, lips all kiss-bruised despite her fresh coat of lipstick. You quietly and desperately wish you would have been the cause of her unkempt state, the sight alone making you want to do unseemly things to her. 

“Sorry about that, Roger had a point to prove,” she says lightly, as if nothing had happened, and she snakes her arm through yours as she joins the conversation.

“Did he prove it?” You asked flatly, if only to play along for her benefit. Her cheeks flushed for a moment as she cleared her throat, looking over her shoulder.

“Twice,” she had to try and hide her grin from the scandalized sound tech. When you followed her gaze, your eyes met Roger’s; he’s so damn smug. You felt like you were going to put your fist through a wall.

The next time you caught up with Dom, however, a few days later, she apologises again, looking guilty for reasons you can’t quite understand.

“Why are you apologising? You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured her, gently putting your hands on hers over the table; when she meets your gaze over the table, she blinks quickly, processing the information. 

“I just felt like I should,” even she doesn’t know why she’s apologising again, “it wasn’t... it was inappropriate.” She finally settles on, and you give a fond, if longsuffering smile.

“When’s Roger ever appropriate at a party?”

“I suppose,” she still looks unsure, however, but the waiter comes over and the ordeal is forgotten. 

Except that it’s not. There’s something new in the way she looks at you, almost hesitant, faintly apologetic, and even a little confused. It’s not something you’re used to, Dominique’s always been endlessly confident and forthright, she’s never been cautious in the history of your friendship.

“I’m worried you think less of me,” she says, blunt as always, when you finally ask what’s wrong.

“Dom, nothing you could do would ever make me think less of you,” you tell her with probably too much honesty. After a moment spent mulling your words over, she moves closer on your plush little sofa, until her leg pressed flush against yours.

“I care about you a great deal,” she tells you, with her own sudden burst of honesty, “and it’s been rough with Roger on tour; I don’t think I could have gotten through it half as well without you,” and she’s looking at you, almost nothing in her expression, like she’s gauging your reaction to let her know how to feel about all of this. 

You’re absolutely terrified she can read every feeling and emotion as it passes through you at her words, and the I want to kiss you to make you shut up about your stupid boyfriend that’s flashing like a neon sign at the front of your brain. 

“I care about you too,” is what you manage after a beat of panicked hesitation, trying not to act as flustered as you feel. Her smile is warm and confident, however, and she thanks you gently, turning back to the TV that had become white noise in your ears. You spend a good few moments more just watching her, wondering what that was all about, before she leans against you, and you just kind of have to accept it.

But there’s something different now, a new energy between you both when you spend time together; she’s more tactile, more prone to staying with you at events, more likely to pick you, you realise.

“Are you trying to steal my girlfriend?” Roger once jokes, and you try not to let your panic show.

“If I was, you’d deserve it,” you laugh, but his expression scrunches up, reading the insult and implications in your words. You get the feeling Roger doesn’t much like you anymore.

But Dominique’s skin is always warm against yours, her hand in yours when strolling about the city, and you get lost in her perfume and her laughter, and some nights she comes over while Roger’s away, and you get tipsy together while watching TV or listening to music, and she’ll curl into your touch and whisper you’re too good to me like it’s a guilty secret the rest of the world can’t hear. She sleeps on your sofa rather than going home to the luxurious, empty bed she shares with Roger, and in the morning you wake to her humming and making breakfast. 

There’s something so domestic about it, and she’ll smile at you, sipping tea in the kitchen, and your heart will melt. 

You want to be allowed to love her, but Roger will always come home. 

Once, twice, a slow song will play on the radio, and she’ll ask you to dance, wrapping herself up in you as you sway in your living room, both of you drunk on a Sunday evening, her breathing slow and even, her eyes closed, and you wonder what she’s picturing. Maybe her boyfriend. Fiancé. Fuck.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that it takes her hands holding your face to register that you’d both stopped moving. Her smile is soft, eyes warm.

“You’d look beautiful in a ball gown,” she says with quiet adoration, and before you can process that that was what she was thinking, your body’s moved of it’s own accord, and you’re kissing her. 

And she’s kissing you back, tasting like wine and fruit, lips soft and gentle, fitting against yours perfectly. She sighs softly against your lips, hands coming to fist in the collar of your shirt as she pulls you closer and I love you tumbles involuntarily from your lips. She pauses.

“I know,” her voice is gently apologetic, barely more than a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You can see she wants to say more, wants to kiss you again, like she wants to live in this moment before it had suddenly turned sour. Her I love you too goes unspoken, but she cups your face in her hands again, thumbs running across your cheeks, across the sudden, faint shock and sorrow written in your expression. She doesn’t step back, she doesn’t even try. 

“I should go.”

“Do you want to go?” You ask, voice soft, the words barely registering to your own ears. There’s a long moment of silence as she considers, weighs her options, hesitates before kissing you again. It hurts, it’s a uniquely masochistic form of torture you’re putting yourself through, but she stays, and the next day you both act like nothing happened.

She’ll make breakfast, smile at you over tea, and in a few months, she’ll marry Roger. 

You’re not invited to the wedding, and part of you is grateful. 

“Aren’t you going to tell me not to go through with it?” She half jokes over coffee a few days before, which shocks you.

“Why?” You’re concerned rather than amused, and she looks a little guilty when she meets your gaze.

“I- do you... still have feelings for me?” She asks, uncertain, and you sigh deeply, sitting back in your chair.

“Do you love Roger, Dom?”

“Of course,” she answers immediately, a little defensive, which seems strange given the situation, but she thaws and takes a long sip of her drink, “I do, I really do.” She admits, sounding almost disappointed in herself.

“Then it doesn’t matter what I feel; do what makes you happy.” You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’d lost to Roger a long time ago; brief affair aside, you don’t want to make Dominique question her world so close to her happy ending. 

So you pointedly don’t ask how she feels about you.

According to the photos in the tabloid, it’s a beautiful wedding, and Dominique and Roger make a picture perfect couple. You spend three days in your house, wrapped in a blanket in front of your TV; you don’t take the phone off the hook in case work calls, but Dom’s on her honeymoon, so you’re not expecting to get any calls from her. 

There’s a full month of radio silence while she’s being whisked off to somewhere romantic, and it’s the longest the two of you have gone without talking since you’d met. The minute she gets back, however, she calls and asks you to lunch, but hesitates, adding that if you didn’t want to -

“Of course I want to!” You’re delighted to hear from her, and only realise once you hang up how much it’s going to hurt. 

Her wedding ring catches the light and you want to immediately flee to the Scottish highlands and become a goat farmer and never talk to another living person again at the sight of it. You smile, and hug her in greeting.

You talk about work, both yours and hers, and about how Freddie’s buying a mansion in London, and how cute John’s kids are, and about everything but the very recent wedding she’d gone through, or the husband she now has.

This time, when you take her hand to traverse the city together, you feel the cold metal of her wedding ring, and something inside you dies, just a little. It’s like she can tell, however, because she immediately skirts around you to take your other hand, tucking you close. And you let her. Every time, you let her. 

Nothing happens between you both, nothing like before, but she still comes over when Roger’s on tour, still sleeps on your sofa, still spends time with you around her busy work schedule, and it hurts to see her hurting, when she gets tired and lets slip about the rumours she’s heard. Apart from one night, she’s practically been a saint to the drummer; his record, however does not appear to be so clean. But she puts on a brave face, and he always comes home.

Freddie throws a party in the early eighties, dressed in a crown and cape, he’s invited everyone remotely outlandish in London, so it seems, and of course his band, and you. You find them all on a cluster of gilded sofas, looking already worn out by the whole affair, despite everyone partying around them. But Dominique brightens when she sees you, and pulls you in to the conversation. Roger, already in a mood, does not even look at you as the rest of the band greets you warmly where you’ve perched on the arm of the sofa by Dominique, her free hand coming up to rest on your thigh. 

They’re teasing Roger about his car song again, which you refrain from, not that you don’t love teasing him about that ridiculous song, but you’re also pretty sure that if you speak to him, he’ll throw his drink at you. 

But Freddie joins them, too exuberant by half for the muted mood of the band amidst the partygoers, and Roger’s ready to leave when Freddie makes a comment that turns your blood to ice.

“Loyalty’s so important, don’t you think Dominique?” 

The world around you fades away to her reaction. No-one’s looking at you, they’re all looking to Roger, because it’s an implicit confirmation of the hoards of rumours Dominique’s been trying to live in denial regarding. 

“Watch it,” Roger warns his bandmate, and Dominique looks pissed, but for the barest moment, she casts her gaze over her shoulder, to you, and you can read the heartbreak in her eyes. 

You wish you’d told her to run years ago after all. 

You wish you’d never believed that Roger had changed.

You wish you’d told her not to go through with the wedding.

You wish a lot of things in that moment. 

But there’s no time, and she’s gone with Roger, both of them furious for different reasons, while your heart lays beating in the seat she’d just left. Looking around, your head is full of a fog in the wake of Freddie’s words, and their departure, and it’s like no-one else can see that your whole world has gone to Hell.

“I need to stay with you,” Dominique calls you the next day, sniffling, and you’re agreeing readily, asking if she needs a lift over. 

She brings a suitcase, and a tearful apology for barging in like this. You wrap her up in a hug, telling her not to worry, that it’s not a bother and she bursts into tears. You order food and wrap her up in a blanket, and stay by her side until she falls asleep against your shoulder. You carry her into bed, tuck her in, and then grab your jacket and go out.

“I should kick your ass,” you snarl after Roger finally lets you in where you’d been kicking at his front door. He looks disheveled, but not like he’d been sleeping, like he’d been crying.

“Are you here for the rest of her things?” He asks flatly, and you do actually shove him, hard enough that he hits the ground and slides against the tiles.

“You stupid, insensitive fucking asshole!” You yell, fuming, “get up, Roger, get up!” You demand, and he does, slowly.

“I’m not going to fight you; you won, okay? She hates me -”

“And she has every right to, don’t play the fucking victim here, don’t try and act like you weren’t the one to sleep your way across the world while you knew she was waiting for you!” Your lip trembled at the thought of all the late nights you’d spent comforting her, reassuring her that it was just the tabloids taking things out of context, “she loved you so fucking much, you stupid fucking slut!” He laughed humorlessly at that, sitting back down on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest.

“We haven’t loved each other for a long time now.”

“That’s not true.”

“She loves you.” 

“That’s not true.” There’s a wobble to your voice, your fraught emotions turning quickly to desperation. 

“I know you slept together,” he says, finally looking at you, and your mouth snaps shut. He doesn’t seem mad, he doesn’t seem... anything. It’s just a fact, no malice behind it. “She told me the day after it happened,” he paused, “and I told her it was okay, told her I did similar stuff in my youth, but if we loved each other, we’d have to be better people, for each other.”

“And she loved you,” you said with dawning despair, realising what he was implying. He nods, gaze drifting, as if not quite registering everything that was happening, “but you...”

“By my own logic, I was already falling out of love; I was a hypocrite. I am a hypocrite.”

“You’re self aware,” you said, sitting down as the fight left you.

“Not really, she yelled it a good deal at me yesterday. She’s right, though.” He takes a deep breath, resting his chin on his knees as he stares at the other wall. “We used to be friends,” he muses and you hum in response, “we used to be a lot of things; young, broke, nobodies, friends.” He lists, and you agree quietly, “I think I knew you would be better for her, even from the start.”

“You knew I loved her from the start?” You ask, not even trying to deny it, and Roger looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m not blind,” he tells you with surprising bitterness, and you clam up at that, “but she loves you because you’re still here, even though she loved me too.”

“Because I’m an idiot,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Probably,” he agrees, and when you make an indignant noise, he gives a flat look, “you didn’t talk her out of marrying me even though you’re in love with her.” He reminds.

“I never want to be the cause of her unhappiness,” you explain softly, mirroring his sitting position, your chin on your knees. Roger nods, “but you hurt her, and I came here to kick your ass.”

“Will you love her like she deserves?” He asks softly.

“If she wants to come back to you, I won’t stop her.”

“You love her better than I ever could,” Roger says with realisation. You’re not going to disagree with him.

When you get home, she’s still asleep in your bed, and you curl up on the sofa, restless all through the night. Dominique wakes in the morning, and comes out, sees your eyes open, rough from sleeplessness, and tears well in her own as all the memories from yesterday come flooding back. 

“Do you want breakfast?” You ask, voice rough, and she nods. You stand, and head to the kitchen, moving automatically around the little space. She watches, quiet eyes, unsmiling, contemplative, but she’s not crying. 

“What do you want to do today?” You hear yourself asking, voice carefully neutral. 

“Do you... do you still love me?”

You freeze. It takes a moment, but you finally look at her, expression blank. 

“I don’t think this is the time-”

“You’re always telling me to do what makes me happy, asking me what I want, what do you want?”

“I want you to be happy,” you tell her softly; her eyes are getting misty, but she’s still not satisfied with that answer.

“I want you to think about yourself for once; what do you want?”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment as you try to organise your thoughts. 

“I want to be able to tell you I love you, and not have you hesitate to say it back -” you admit, but she cuts you off, words quick.

“I love you.”

“I -”

“I love you.”

“Dominique -”

“I love you, and I have for years. I love you.”

“Then why did you marry Roger?!” You finally explode, and her eyes go wide, before he gaze drops to the counter with shame.

“Because I thought it was what I was meant to do; I cared about him a great deal, but we- we weren’t meant for each other. I don’t love him like I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

“I don’t want you to be saying this just because you just broke up with him and you’re looking for a rebound or a safety net,” you admit, and she looks at you with a calculating gaze, understanding your hesitation, “I do love you, Dom, and you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like, but I don’t want to be with you until you’ve had time to process everything that’s happening. You need time. You’re not in your right mind.”

Dominique swallows hard, nodding very seriously. Her gaze is intense as she watches you get back to making breakfast. Silence hangs in the air, strange, undefinable silence laced with emotions like static electricity. 

“Can I kiss you? Just once?” She asks, and you look at her over your shoulder, spatula in one hand, a warning in your voice when you say her name, “just once.” She promises, eyes wide and the barest of smiles on her lips. You could never say no to that smile. You turn down the stove for just a moment, and step up to the counter, leaning over it to meet her. 

Kissing her feels like coming home and freedom at the same time, and she’s warm when she brings her hand up to your cheek, humming with tentative joy against your lips. When you pull back, you let yourself linger, just inches from her, getting lost in her eyes, in her smile for the barest moment.

“Would you like me to make tea?” She asks, soft, grinning.

“Would love that,” you agree, a little breathless, stepping back to the stove. 

“I don’t...” she paused by the refrigerator, “I don’t know how long it’s going to take me to make sense of this, my whole life, I...”

“That’s why we’re waiting; if I’m not what you want, if you go a different direction, if you just wanna be single for a few years and end up meeting someone else, I’ll respect that,” you assure her, “but if I am what you want, Dom I’d wait forever for you.”

[floralseokjin]

— crystallised 05 (m)

crystallised /ˈkrɪst(ə)lʌɪz/ (verb) make or become definite and clear

Six weeks, that’s all it takes to forget about the threesome you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi, and your past...fuck buddy, Seokjin. After all, it’s no big deal. Yoongi and you are doing better than ever, there’s no reason to regret such a night shared. That is until you hear some gossip in the library one day, and then slowly, little by little, everything starts to fall apart... Can you begin to make sense out of all this confusion, or is it too late?

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; fluff, oc and seokjin are finally facing their fears, a fair lot of talking, lots of kissing, yoongi’s in this chapter 🤧 words; 16,777

sequel to; memoirs of a mistake and lostmyhead

chapters; 01 ⤑ 02 ⤑ 03 ⤑ 04 ⤑ 05 ⤑ 06 ⤑ 07⤑ 08 ✓

Falling asleep last night proved difficult. Incredibly difficult when you were still buzzed from Seokjin’s kisses and your mind wouldn’t shut off. It was probably gone 3am when you finally dozed off, and even then you were sure you were still partly awake. Half dreaming of the party and the feeling of Seokjin’s lips. The sound of his laugh and how happy he had seemed when you had finally embraced. He sounded just as happy as you and that just made you even more excited. Even more nervous potentially…

Seokjin messaged you around 8am. Early for him and it was enough to finally jolt you out of your half asleep-half awake slumber. He wished you good morning and asked if you still wanted to talk. Duh. In all honesty, you’d been ready 8 hours ago, when your mouths had been connected and you heart was beating out of your chest. It was the cops who interrupted you. Brian’s party shut down because of meddling well-to-do neighbours. You’d left with Lina, a wave in Seokjin’s direction and she hadn’t questioned you once, despite the dazed look on your face. Maybe she didn’t think you had the balls to make a move like she’d wanted you to. In fairness, you hadn’t thought you had the balls either. 

Perhaps right now was cementing that. It was half 9 and you were waiting for him to turn up at your door. He had work in an hour or so but you both agreed you couldn’t wait until the afternoon. Not that you actually knew what you were going to say when you saw him. Last night had seemed easier, like you were both on the same page, but now you had to use actual words and you were lowkey freaking out. You hadn’t even let Lina know in the end, wanting a few hours or so for you and Seokjin to work things out. You were regretting that now. Talking to yourself wasn’t much of a help. Just got you more anxious. Not even recalling the familiar sensation of his lips could ease you. You were half convincing yourself he was about to rock up at your door telling you it was all a mistake and he never wanted to see you again. 

That wasn’t the case. His face just about lit up when you opened the door to him and that was enough to begin dispelling your worries. He was dressed in black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt. He looked perfect, and that cute smile you’d grown to adore was on his face as he greeted you. Voice soft. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Yours matched, but maybe a little shakier. It was funny, these past couple of months you’d quickly gotten used to one another again, and now today, it seemed like you were back to that uncertainty. In a good way though. This time the doubt was for something more serious than friendship. “Come in,” you gestured at him, moving to the side to let him walk past. You clicked the door closed and now it felt real. 

“You okay?” He asked, smile still there. Maybe it was a nervous thing. 

You nodded. Same dumb smile on your face. “You?” 

He chuckled then. “Not gonna lie. Kinda nervous.” A small shrug. “Scared.” 

That eased you more. Even more so again when you saw him take a seat on your couch. He’d been there many times before. This morning was no different. “Same.” If it wasn’t obvious. 

You watched him wrestle with his front jean pocket, pulling out his cell phone finally and holding it up as he laughed a little unsure again. “And this damn app hates me. Told me to be cautious. Doesn’t help.” 

Cute. He’d kept the astrology app installed. You hadn’t been expecting that. You smiled, taking the space next to him. Again, like you’d been in many times before. “Mine told me to follow my heart.” 

Seokjin nodded to himself, seemingly deciding what to say next. “We can do both,” he finally settled. “Follow our hearts cautiously.” Like he couldn’t help it he reached for your hand. Clasping it in the warmth of his. 

You smiled, looking up at him. “That sounds like a good idea.” Your gazes lingered, before yours stopped at his mouth, and god, you really wanted to kiss him. You were getting withdrawals, but it seemed inappropriate. You hadn’t even said anything of value yet. Cue more delaying. “Want a drink or anything? I have snacks.” 

He shook his head a little. “Nah, I’m good.” 

You weren’t really listening, attempting to stand up before the words had even left his mouth. “Sure? I don’t mind–”

He gripped your hand tighter, stopping you in your tracks. “I’m fine. Honest.” He added with a grin. “Let’s talk.” He shook your hand encouragingly. You swallowed tightly but sat back down. The mood seemed more serious. Nothing wrong with it. You’d been serious with Seokjin a few times these past couple of months. However, it hadn’t been concerning you both. Like together… The nervousness suddenly outweighed the excitement. 

“So. You don’t regret last night?” Seokjin began. His voice sounded strange. A little formal. Like he was talking to his manager or professor. Or maybe it wasn’t even that. Maybe he just had his guard up. “I think that’s the most important question to ask before I start confessing shit.” 

Confessing shit? At that your heart began to beat a little faster. Felt warmer. You recalled last night. The way he’d kissed you. The way he’d held you. “No.” You replied firmly. “Of course not.” Then a little more hesitant, and maybe for no good reason.  “Do you?” 

He scoffed. Talking freely. “No way. I’ve literally been dreaming about that happening. I mean,” he paused, eyes widening, “not at a party. Please don’t get the wrong idea on why I invited you…” 

“I don’t,” you giggled. 

He smiled at that, appeased. “Honestly, I was just waiting for the perfect moment. I wanted to talk to you like this before anything could potentially happen but shit,” –a scoff of disbelief– “there was something in the air last night. I couldn’t control myself, especially when you just…” He trailed off, the silence doing the right amount of talking, and you agreed. Last night was suffocating with how much you wanted him.

“I think that moment was beyond perfect,” he concluded, a soft smile on his face that matched his tone. It was a tone you didn’t get to hear much. It was beautiful. “…and–and now I want to say what’s been on my mind for weeks…months…” Pausing he glanced away, pulling a face. “Sorry. I’m speaking too much. Do you want to go first?” 

You shook you head, wanting to reassure him. You were at the edge of your seat, wanting to know what exactly had been on his mind all this time… and in all honesty, you didn’t think you could piece together a coherent sentence when it came to your feelings anyway. Your head was spinning. “I’m…I’m kinda overwhelmed,” you admitted, a weak laugh escaping from your mouth. “Can you just carry on? I really wanna hear what you have to say.” 

“Okay,” he nodded, swallowing as he tried to think of where or how to start. The pressure was on him now and you could tell he was feeling a little uneasy. “Um…,” he cleared his throat, sounding apologetic. “Sorry, just really scared.” 

“It’s fine. Take your time.” You soothed, realising somewhere along the way you’d stopped holding hands as you gripped his this time. He latched on, entwining them and brought it to his lap. With his other hand he began to play with your fingers and it seemed to relax him.

“Okay, so… Just want to make it clear, last night wasn’t just nothing to me. I mean, you’ve probably already guessed but,” he laughed awkwardly, glancing at you, determined to make eye contact from now on. “Just wanted to make sure.”

You smiled. Not really needing the clarification now that he was sat in your apartment, but liking it anyway. “I know that. Not like before, right?” 

“No,” he agreed. “I want–I want… You.” Your heart skipped a beat. Those three little words possibly beginning to thaw away at something in your mind. Clarity was coming, but your head was still whirring. He continued, voice heightening in pitch as he rushed out his words.  “Like properly. Us, and I’m kinda scared because I’ve never felt this before and I don’t want to mess it up like I did before.” 

“Before?” You pried, unable to stop yourself. Your heart thudded in your chest, anticipating his answer. 

He just nodded slowly, gaze a little somber now. “When you and Yoongi… I think I liked you. No.” A shake of the head. No doubt. “I know I liked you. Just didn’t realise at the time until it was too late.” 

Something wanted to click in your mind. It was almost irritating. How his words could send a warm flush of comfort through your body, but also shake it up. For many reasons. But honestly, how could you have been so blind? “Seokjin, I had no idea.” You sounded regretful and torn. Were you? 

“I didn’t expect you to. Not when I was clueless myself back then,” he chuckled, shaking his head before his expression turned more serious. “And I don’t want you to think I had ulterior motives for being your friend, because I didn’t. I genuinely just missed you and wanted to hang out with you again.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “I just resigned myself into understanding it was never going to happen between us… Being your friend was just as great.” 

He sounded like he’d just accepted it along the way. Maybe you had too… You didn’t know. Things weren’t adding up in your brain, and you were overwhelming yourself trying to think so hard. How was it Seokjin had kept it hidden so well? Had he really been willing to push aside his feelings for you just so he could be the friend you’d needed? That was touching. 

“I don’t think that.” Ulterior motives weren’t his style. Never had been. “I never thought that.” 

He smiled at your affirmation, sliding his hand from yours to scratch the back of his head. Nervous habit. “So where do we go from here?” He didn’t give you time for suggestions. “I knew things were slowly changing between us, but I didn’t know if that was because I was being selfish and falling back into my old ways… Every time I caught myself flirting I hated myself but then it seemed like you didn’t mind…or I don’t know, you were flirting back with me?” 

He found your eyes again as you grinned. “I was definitely flirting back.” With Seokjin how could you not? It just came naturally. You’d always been super comfortable with him. Even more so this time around. 

He couldn’t help but grin back, reaching for your hand once more. Like he couldn’t bear not to touch you for longer than a few minutes. “Slowly it just became natural again. Something changed between us, and I really wanted to talk about it but I was too afraid. There were plenty of chances. Too many to count. Like the other night when we were on that stupid app, and we were touching and I started tickling you…” The pause he took let you both think back. That night was the turning point for you. When you realised you needed to accept things weren’t just as innocent as friends, and that you needed to do something about it. 

“I really thought something was going to happen. Like if I kissed you, you wouldn’t mind, but I didn’t want it like that. But then we ended up doing it anyway last night.” 

“Sorry.” Despite the little smirk he gave you, you felt the need to apologise. If truth be told, talking was what you wanted too. But last night just felt right. Despite the fog in your brain, you wanted to go back there. You wanted to feel his mouth on yours again. Everything had seemed so simple last night. Your feelings becoming crystal clear, but now, now you were overthinking. Wanting everything to add up like magic. 

“Don’t be,” he nudged you playfully. “I’d give you anything if you asked for it.” His voice was deeper now. Did something to you. Especially when he leant in. “Just you making the first move almost. It ruined me. Was hard to come back to down…” 

“Good thing one of Brian’s neighbours called the cops then…” You murmured, eyes on his parted mouth. 

“That’s one way of looking at it.” 

You let out a deep exhale at that. It merged with his. His voice so low, so teasing, you felt everything drop to your gut. You could kiss him again and you didn’t think he’d mind. You’d always explained yourself better with actions than words anyway. You wanted to show him how much he meant to you. How serious you were about this. Words just seemed impossible right now, but… you owed him. How nerve wracking must it have been for him to come over and admit all that to you? You didn’t even think that was the half of it, and you were sat here, still not saying anything of worth…

“Seokjin,” you sighed lightly, breaking the distance. “I’m really not good with words. Or feelings.” Your voice quivered as you spoke. “I want to say a lot but it’s hard. I don’t even know what it is I want to say.” Scoffing at your frustration you gave his hand a squeeze. “Just know I agree with everything you said. Everything you were feeling, I was. I don’t…I don’t know when it happened. I want to give you a definite answer, but I’m still trying to work it out.” You took a pause, trying to explain yourself as well as you could right now. When did he become the one, and if he always was, why had it taken you so long to realise? You felt like a fake. A fake who couldn’t work out the answers. 

“It’s like, I haven’t let myself think or feel anything about you and us and like slowly, it’s been coming and taking over my brain, until last night it just blew up.” You grinned goofily, unable to help it, remembering back. “I wasn’t even drunk. Something was definitely in the air.” 

He laughed at that, reaching to sweep strands of hair from out of your eyes with his fingers, and despite your lack of words, they seemed enough for him for now. You didn’t deserve him. Nudging his shoulder with yours, you teased him. “I blame you for looking so good.” 

He denied it, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes a little. “Nonsense. It’s all on you.” His tinged cheeks didn’t go amiss to you though. Seokjin was cute was he was embarrassed. You’d always thought so. Your heart panged at the realisation, something on the tip of your tongue, but then he was pulling out his cellphone, groaning at the time, and just like that you’d lost what you wanted to say. “Damn. I have work in half an hour. I’m sorry.” 

His pout was just too adorable not to smile at. Even if you didn’t want him to leave just yet. Not that you were getting far with your confession. “It’s okay. Can I see you later?” Even so, you couldn’t stand to be away from him the entire day. The hours apart might help you think some more, have some solid answers for when he came back. 

Seokjin nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I mean, if you want…” He stopped himself with a sigh. “Of course you want… you asked.” 

Bless him, he was still trying to be polite. Still unsure about how to act or what to say. You felt the same. “This is so weird,” you giggled quietly. 

He laughed along before his eyes turned soft. Voice very much the same. “It’s fine. Time is our friend. We’ll take things slow. Might be awkward in the beginning, but that’s a good sign.” 

You nodded along, agreeing fully. These past couple of months it was like you guys had started over. There were sides to Seokjin you’d never seen before, ones you’d grown to love (easily). You hoped he thought the same. It was crazy how comfortable you’d gotten around him. In a different way than before. Now things were changing again. The awkwardness was expected. You’d spent many months unable to ever be this open, and even now you were still struggling. 

There was something else too…  A nagging in the back of your brain. “There is something I want to do though. First.” Seokjin looked at you curiously as you cleared your throat with a cough. Ready to continue. “Tell Yoongi.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened, expression visibly stiffening. You continued. “I feel like I owe him that, before we y’know… Whatever happens between us, I just want him to know first.” 

Because of you it seemed as if Yoongi had gotten caught in the middle of whatever the hell had been going on between you and Seokjin all this time. Whether he knew it or not –  Whether you knew it or not… It would feel off if he ended up finding out via someone else… You didn’t think you could do that. Even if you hadn’t spoken since the break up. 

Seokjin’s expression relaxed again, shock worn away. “I understand. That’s a good idea.” 

Relief felt warm inside you. Not that you’d expected him to have a problem with it. It was more the way his agreement seemed liked a reassurance. You weren’t stupid for thinking of your ex. It was the right idea. “I’ll text him, or call him… or something, just…” You frowned. “Today?” 

Seokjin gave a tiny shrug. “Sooner the better, right?” Best to rip the bandaid off. That’s what they said, huh? Or something along those lines… What’s the worst that could happen? 

Conversation pretty much disturbed, or delayed until Seokjin finished work, there was nothing much more to say as you walked him to your door. Your hand snug in his. Like it should have been for a long time now. The thought popped into your mind like it’d been there forever. Made heat spread across your chest. 

“Message me when you’re done with work and you can come over again,” you smiled up at him. Like some lovesick puppy. Sickening. 

He didn’t think so. A massive grin spreading on his face. “Okay. Can’t wait.” 

“Me either.” You agreed, reluctantly slipping your palm from his to open up the door. He surprised you with a chaste kiss to your mouth as he left. As if he couldn’t help it. 

As if he’d been eager to do so since he’d gotten here. 

The lingering tingle would keep you going for a few more hours… Luckily.

.

.

The irritating noise in your dream became the irritating noise in real life when you annoyingly got torn from your sleep. It was still dark outside and it took you a moment to realise the noise was your phone ringing. It vibrated against the top of your nightstand and blurry eyed you could make out Seokjin’s caller ID pic. A secret pic you’d snapped while he was asleep one night. He still had no clue. Maybe you should change it soon… It was weird, right? But you digressed. There were more pressing things at hand, like wondering why he was calling you at obscene hours. 

“Seokjiin, what do you want?” You whined down the phone at him. “It’s nearly 4am. You just woke me up.” 

“I-wan’ to seeee you.” 

The way he sang it to you, paired with the way the words blurred together in some parts and hiccuped apart in others, told he was drunk. You sighed. You didn’t have the patience for this. “You can see me tomorrow.” 

“No.” 

He was firm, you’d give him that. Made you feel guilty. You lowered the tone in your voice, hoping to sound conversational. “Where did you go tonight?” 

“Hobi. Clubbing.” He replied simply. “I thimnk I’m drunkk.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. He’d only now come to that conclusion? “Go home and sleep it off then.” 

“Can’t do that.”

He was still adamant. “You can see me tom–”

“Am outside your place.” 

You jerked forward, already pulling the comforter from your body to stand up. Hanging up you darted to the door. This fucker was drunk out on the street calling your phone to let him in… Did he have zero self awareness? You had neighbours.  

“Get inside before you make too much of a commotion.” You just about scolded, opening up the door to see his back to you. He was looking down at his phone, slow to realise you’d hung up on him. However as soon as he heard your voice he spun  around. The goofiest smile on his face. He looked genuinely ecstatic. Despite his eyes criss crossing. And then he had you in his arms, the tightest bear hug possible. Squeezing the life out of you. 

“I missed youuu,” he slurred. 

“What are you doing,” you moaned, arms crushed between your bodies. “Ew. You’re wet.” You noticed, fighting back against the wet patch slowly spreading to your pyjama shorts. He stunk too. 

“Someone spilt their drink on mee,” he whined, you much stronger in his drunken state, and with one push he stumbled back, letting you go. He paused before he continued, voice tiny. “Maybe me…” 

You sighed, locking your door before turning back to him. “Borrow my shower. You’re not getting in my bed unless you’re clean.” He obviously wasn’t going home tonight. He listened quite obediently, slowly trailing towards your bathroom as you yelled after him, “It might sober you up a little too.” 

By the time he was done you were almost asleep again. Well, if you ignored the annoying sound of running water. Of course he had to ruin it by coming back. Lifting up one side (his side) of the duvet he whispered your name – irritatingly you may add – as he climbed in. You grunted in response, back to him, hoping he’d get the picture and just go to sleep. 

He didn’t. Fidgeting for a while, he threw one arm over your middle before wresting the other under your body. You kept your eyes glued shut, biting down on the inside of your lip in annoyance. Didn’t stop you from reaching behind you to push his body closer to yours though. His arms may have been around you, but his body seemed like a mile away. You came into contact with his bare ass. 

“You���re naked?!” You croaked, twisting your head around to be met with his darkened outline. 

“No shit. Got no other clothes,” he told you like you were dumb. You groaned and turned your back to him once more. At least the shower had awakened proper english again.   “Wanna fuck.” Kinda. 

He gripped your waist, rubbing his (soft) dick against your ass like he had some sort of itch. 

“Too tired,” you mumbled. “Besides you’re drunk.” 

He didn’t put up much of a fight, realising his body had betrayed him as he muttered something that sounded an awful lot like ‘fucking stupid’ under his breath. “Fine.” He huffed. “Can you kiss me then?” A beat of silence. “I brushed my teeth.” 

You slowly turned around in his grip, face to face now as your eyes began to get used to the darkness, studying the blurry outline of his face. What an out of place question. It caught you off guard. “Not with my toothbrush, I hope.” You whispered. 

“No. I used a spare one.” 

He did indeed taste like spearmint. Lips warm but tongue cold. He smelt good too now. Not like a brewery. It had been a long time since you’d kissed him. I missed you, that’s what he’d said, right? Dramatic, but maybe he was correct. You hadn’t hung out in a few days. Hell, properly, even longer… Life was different these days. You were questioning a lot. Yoongi existed. Not that he hadn’t already existed, but for you… Yeah, he existed in your world now. You didn’t know in what way yet. But what you were doing with Seokjin now, you’d been doing with him not five hours ago. 

You were in a predicament. The more serious things with Yoongi got, be it a few dates so far, the more distant you felt towards Seokjin. Maybe that’s why you were short with him lately. Why you kept making excuses not to meet up. But here he was tonight. Missing you. Wanting to kiss you, and fuck, was he kissing you good. For a drunk guy. You just about forgot he was naked. Rolled on top of you now, kissing you like his life depended on it. Like he was trying to prove a point. And for a second he did. You forgot Yoongi existed until your lips were cold again. Seokjin at your neck now, making your squirm as he nuzzled in. “Seokjin. That tickles.” You felt a little detached. 

He stopped reluctantly, lifting his head up to stare you in the eyes. His expression was like nothing you’d seen on him before. Like he was reading your mind and hating everything he found out. You felt exposed and unexplainably sad. 

He kept silent and rolled off you, sighing softly as he landed on his back. “What did you get up to today?” Silence. “Actually. These last few days. I haven’t seen you in a while.” His words were heavy with the alcohol. Fun turning somber. 

“Nothing much. Been busy.” 

“How does that work?” He questioned your lame reply instantly. 

You gave a small shrug into the darkness. “Just does. Assignments, work, hanging out with friends.” 

You could feel his eyes on you but you didn’t dare look across. Yoongi was a friend, right? You hadn’t lied or left him out of the equation… So why did you feel so guilty? Seokjin’s reluctance to say anything weighed heavily in  your chest. And like he noticed, you heard his lips part. “Same.” He sounded less accusing now. Voice soft, until he groaned, rubbing his head with his palm. “My head’s all dizzy.” 

You were thankful for the conversation change, turning on your side to look at him. “If you feel like throwing up, please make it to the toilet in time.” 

He shook is head, tapping his stomach as he spoke. “N’way. Stomach of steel.” 

Famous last words perhaps, but you laughed anyway. Letting Seokjin hook his arm under your body again, he pulled you to him, kissing the top of you head as you rested it on his chest. The action caught you off guard and you placed one on him too. Just below his collarbone. His skin was hot, you inhaled. In the back of your mind searching for remnants of some girl’s perfume, but you were only met with your strawberry shower gel. 

What? If you were seeing Yoongi, the idea didn’t seem so far fetched. Or maybe it was just your guilty conscious doing all the thinking. You hadn’t even showered tonight after your date with Yoongi. Could Jin smell the other guy? Is that why he was acting so strange? 

Or maybe you were just paranoid… Maybe you were just an idiot… 

.

.

That’s how you spent the rest of your morning. Thinking back, trying to remember every little moment you and Seokjin spent together whilst hooking up. You kept going over where it all went wrong. How it all went wrong. Why… Trying to look for unnoticed clues he might have given you that revealed his subconscious feelings a little. That memory, the drunken one, where he’d turned up at your door at silly o’clock in the morning… It came back to you randomly, after you’d racked your brains. How he’d wanted to see you, told you he’d missed you. They say a person drunk tells the truth… The way he’d wanted to kiss you. The way he’d done it. He’d never kissed you like that before. Hadn’t afterwards. Until last night. 

It wasn’t the exact same. The kiss last night had been even more intense, but it still held the same longing behind each caress. You saw that now. Even if Seokjin hadn’t that night many months ago. Or if he did, he’d done a good job at hiding it. That just made you sad. After all, he’d been aware you were dating Yoongi all along, just hadn’t brought it up. You’d already began drifting apart that night. It had only gotten worse… 

It just didn’t make sense. How back then you were so hung up on Yoongi you’d disregarded the guy you’d felt such an innate comfort with. Even if you would never admit it back then… What did that mean? When had you fallen for Seokjin? It didn’t matter if it wasn’t then, but for some reason you couldn’t let it go. Things weren’t adding up. You were so good at internalising your feelings you’d fucked yourself over. You wanted to be able to let Seokjin know when it was you fell for him too. He’d confessed to you. It was only fair. You owed him in a way. It’s what he needed to hear. This was a new start between you two. Things would be different now. 

There was someone else you owed something to as well… Even if Yoongi didn’t care, you wanted him to hear it from you. That you and Seokjin were going to try at something. Egotistical on your part maybe, but if the tables were turned, you hoped he would have done the same. You really had cared about Yoongi. At one point you were certain he was the one you could’ve fallen in love with… Now it just felt like you’d messed him around. What if it was always Seokjin? For some reason that thought scared you. Made you feel like you’d fucked them both over because you were selfish and clueless. Maybe a part of you was too afraid to admit the truth to yourself… It was scary. 

You (12:37pm)  Hey, this is really random. Don’t even know if you have my number saved still, but I was just wondering if we could talk soon? I have something I want to tell you and over text seems weird. You’re not under any obligation to do so, I just really want to let you know something 

You spent way too long trying to compose a text to him. You either sounded too formal or too awkward. Telling him over message seemed like a cop out, call would be better, but you didn’t want to pick up the phone straight away, he needed some type of heads up. Waiting for his reply was the most gruelling ten minutes of your life, questioning your choice of words. What if he didn’t have your number saved anymore? You hadn’t even signed it off at the end. Idiot. You were just thinking how much better it would’ve been if you’d messaged him through Facebook, when your phone vibrated in your hand, signalling his reply. 

Yoongi (12:47pm)  Of course I still have your number, don’t be silly. What’s up? Ngl this sounds kinda ominous haha…  You free today? We can meet up if that makes things easier??

One hard part over, you had to move onto the second pretty quickly. Yoongi’s suggestion made sense, you were never any good over the phone, but now you had to actually see him. You hadn’t spoken to him since the break up. Weeks and weeks of virtually no contact other than a few glances on campus if your paths ever crossed and those weird sporadic likes on social media. Now you had to have a conversation with him. Tell him you wanted to start dating Seokjin. You know, the guy you’d had that threesome with. The guy you’d been hooking up with for months prior. The guy that surely meant something more to you the whole time… 

Yoongi was going to see straight through you. 

.

.

You chose the park near the river to meet up at. His idea because you sucked at making plans when anxious. You ended up driving, wanting to pop into the grocery store on your way home to get some things for later. Just in case Seokjin hadn’t had time to eat. You got there a little earlier than intended, a blessing in disguise really, because you could sit on a bench and plan what you were going to say before Yoongi arrived. Except, he was there already… It put you in a spin, relying on a few deep breaths to calm you down before you approached him. 

“Hey,” you smiled, slowly sitting next to him. Awkward as shit. Your heart was now like a jack hammer in your chest. Maybe this was a bad idea. The apprehensive look Yoongi gave you didn’t help either. 

“Hey.” He replied softly. “You okay? You kinda have me worried.” 

“Sorry.” You dipped your head,  finding it weird being in such close proximity to him after so long. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. Honest.” God. You were having major second thoughts about this. He probably didn’t care what you were doing now. After all, he’d been the one to end things. But you were here now. No backing out. “Maybe… Maybe it’s no big deal and you’ll just laugh in my face, but… I don’t know.” 

“Hey, it’s fine,” he reassured, voice light, but you thought that was for your benefit. One of his hands made to reach for you. Reassure you. Where? An arm? A leg? But he stopped himself, realising that wasn’t his place anymore. “Take as much time as you want.” 

“Um.” Silence wore on as you tried to word this correctly. “Last night, something happened…ah,” you shook your head, going in the wrong direction. “Never mind. The details aren’t that important.” A deep breath. No matter what, Yoongi deserved this.  “Seokjin and I want to give things a go again. Like, properly.” 

Despite your words being brave, you couldn’t dare look at him, heart still thumping in your chest, although relief was slowly calming it down. The hardest part was over. 

“Oh,” was what he said. Didn’t sound shocked, or mad. Just took your information. 

That didn’t help. Made you grow nervous again. Felt like you needed to explain yourself. “Yeah. So. I don’t really know how it happened, or when, but we’ve been hanging out a lot lately and I don’t know, at first I was feeling guilty because you know, us.” 

You finally peeked at Yoongi then. It hit you that the idea of you and him now seemed odd. Prospective was a weird thing. Especially knowing Seokjin had feelings for you all along…  You blocked your ever-trailing thoughts to get back to explaining, before you lost where you were going. But you found where Seokjin we concerned, words became easier. 

“But the longer I didn’t hear from you that sort of fizzled out, and you were liking tweets that pretty much insinuated I was hanging out with him. I figured you didn’t care and I was overthinking things once again, so it just continued. Somewhere things just started happening…” 

Pausing, you realised how inappropriate all this was. Yoongi didn’t want the whole damn history. You inhaled, fiddling with the strings of your hoody. “You really don’t want to hear this. I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is, I wanted to let you know before me and him began something. We share a history, right? I didn’t want you to find out randomly.” 

Eyes now trained to your lap, too afraid to do anything else, you felt Yoongi nudge his shoulder against yours gently. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He sounded normal. Again, not shocked, mad, whatever you’d expected. It made you look up at him, seeing a small smile on his face. “Really. I appreciate it.” He continued. A way to reassure you before he chuckled under his breath. “But I must say… I’m glad you figured it all out in the end.” 

Huh? What did that mean? Knitting your brows together you spoke slowly. “I don’t understand.” 

He studied you, like he was trying to call your bluff. “O-kay,” he said awkwardly, shaking his head. His turn to avert eye contact now. “Maybe I’m mistaken.” 

“Mistaken about what?” 

He gave you small scoff, eyes back on you. Disbelief colouring his tone. “C’mon, you still haven’t realised?”

You frowned harder. Still thoroughly clueless, you told yourself, but deep down you knew. You knew. Something was creeping up the back of your neck. A cold sweat setting in. You knew exactly what he was going to say. It’s what you’d been pushing to the darkness of your mind all day. All night. No. Ever since you’d started realising your feelings for Seokjin. Long ago… 

“It’s always been him.” 

Something froze your entire your body. The shock of a confirmation you’d been in long need of. Funny how it had to be with Yoongi’s help. What did that mean? It didn’t seem fair on him. Yet he seemed fine. Talking casually. Like it wasn’t you he was referring to. 

“You guys should have started something long ago. Way before I came on the scene.” 

“Don’t say that.” The words left you before you could truly think them. What he said triggered something inside of you. Things you weren’t ready to admit. If what he said was true, that meant you’d strung him along. Wasted his time. Maybe that’s what you were most scared of. Confused by… 

“Trust me. I’ve come to terms with it,” Yoongi laughed softly. “When we– When I ended things, it killed me being unable to tell you what was truly on my mind. I hated seeing you so confused and sad, and knowing I’d done it, but I knew if I brought up Jin you’d just deny it.” He shook his head. “Well, not deny. That’s the wrong word. You were clueless when it came to him.” 

You blinked slowly, forehead creased as things finally began to sink in. “So you broke up with me because you thought I liked Seokjin?” Suddenly it was easy to look at his face. All the things that should have been said the night of your break up were finally taking place. 

“It was more than that.” He tilted his head, thinking hard. Trying to put his thoughts into words. “Like, I just felt like I was in the way of something that had a bigger potential. It kinda wore me down after a while.” 

You didn’t reply. Not really sure if he wanted you to. Instead you waited patiently, strangely at ease despite what he was telling you. “You and I were good together, right? I really liked you and I know you liked me back but the relationship was dead. There was something missing and no matter how hard we both tried, we weren’t going to find it.” His words brought back the memories. The stale feeling you had in the last few weeks of your relationship. You wouldn’t want to relive that for a million dollars. 

“I think you had it with Jin. Or,” he corrected himself, “you could’ve if you’d realised.” 

“And you did?” You didn’t mean it rudely. You just wanted to know how it was so obvious for Yoongi. If it was so apparent how come you’d fallen for him in the first place. That’s what didn’t make sense to you. If it was always Seokjin, how come Yoongi had caught your attention? The guilt from both sides was enough to make you bury it away perhaps… 

Yoongi’s mouth curled up, amused by something. “I think I know you pretty well. We were together for a little while, hm? I liked you for longer.” You nodded in agreement. In the beginning you’d given your entire being to him. He wasn’t like other guys you’d dated. That’s why you’d felt so safe with him. Trusted him greatly. Still did…

“You act tough a lot of the time but deep down you just want to be loved for who you are. You’re sensitive and afraid to show it. You want to fall in love more than anything.” 

Jesus. You were rendered speechless at his straightforward approach. Despite being open with Yoongi during your relationship, there were some things you’d always keep to yourself. Lina saw through you, having known you for years but you didn’t realise Yoongi had too. Maybe you were more transparent than you thought? Did Seokjin see all that stuff too? 

“You thought that person was me. The one you were going to fall in love with. I get it. I’m the same. We’re a lot alike. That’s why I was so sure you were gonna be it. The one I fell in love with for real too, but I was oblivious to what you and Jin were before.” He chuckled again, “or underestimated it. I don’t know.” 

“I think I was oblivious too,” you whispered. So oblivious it hurt. So oblivious it cost you months and months. 

“I’m not telling you how to think, nor am I saying I know how you think, but it all makes sense, right? I don’t know what you and he had. Don’t think I ever will, but there’s something there. Everyone with two eyes can see it.” You listened to Yoongi, the memory of you and Seokjin bumping into Brian at the movie theatre popping into your head. The way he’d looked at you both knowingly. It had gone over your head that night, or maybe it hadn’t… You’d just let it. It was easier than facing the facts. Which was? It had always been Seokjin. 

“I don’t really know him. I’ve heard things about him, he has a reputation. I think that was always in the back of your mind. Maybe still is. That’s why it’s taken you so long to get here. He wasn’t the safe bet. The first option if given the choice maybe. But that was all in the past. Now? Things are different.” 

That had always been the problem. There was so many layers to you and Seokjin. It was never supposed to be anything serious. Hell, you hadn’t been very fond of him at first. Maybe that’s why it had taken you so long to realise you were head over heels for him. He wasn’t who or what you’d imagined. But that meant nothing. He was after all, the only guy who’d never hurt you. He’d been right in front of you this whole time, you just hadn’t seen the truth. 

“I wish you had told me what you were feeling that night,” you murmured. 

“Would you really have believed me?” He countered. “The whole break up was shitty. Definitely on my part. I fucked up a lot. Was mad at myself. With you for a moment. It was like the more I tried making us work the more detached I became. I could see you were really trying too, and that killed me. Knowing I was messing with your head.” 

You really had been so desperate for Yoongi to be the one. Any girl would be lucky to have him, and you did for a little while. He was perfect, but he wasn’t your perfect. That was reserved for someone else… Someone who had been your rock these past few weeks. 

“That night it all just hit me, but I still couldn’t tell you the deepest things on my mind. It fucking sucked,” he chuckled bitterly, kicking a stone. 

“You’re right. I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Would’ve thought you were delusional. Making an excuse to dump my ass.” You laughed. He joined you for a moment, until there was silence and you were just left with your thoughts. If Yoongi had told you the truth that night, it may have pushed you further away from Seokjin… You were stubborn. You would’ve wanted to prove Yoongi wrong. 

He kicked another stone beside you, bringing you back to reality. Should you go now? You’d taken a lot from this conversation, but you felt guilty. Yoongi has carried so much around on his shoulders since the break up – way before that even… You wanted to understand a little more. You wanted him to get closure. 

“When did you start realising?” 

He hesitated. For a moment you thought he was going to choose not to answer. You wouldn’t press him. Even if selfishly you wanted to know. His closure was yours too. “It was strange,” he began. You held your breath. “After the…the,” he hesitated again. For a different reason this time. You understood when he continued. “–threesome, things were hella good, right? It wasn’t just me who felt that. The whole time before it felt like I was lacking when it came to you. Makes sense now, because I wasn’t him.” 

That was interesting. Looking back, you thought there had been things lacking in your relationship. Not him, though. Not Yoongi. The deeper connection you’d had with Seokjin wasn’t there with Yoongi. That’s what was missing. You saw that now. You’d mistaken it for being shallow.

“But after that night, as crude as it sounds, sorry, I felt like I knew you a little better. I saw sides of you I didn’t know existed and that excited me. I was thinking with my dick, but we seemed really happy after that and I felt like things between you and Seokjin were finally done. The selfish, jealous side of me was happy, but it didn’t last. I think deep down I always knew it was him.” 

You suddenly remembered the looks you used to catch him giving you sometimes. Like he was unexplainably sad during a moment that should’ve been happy. It had been catching up with him. It was already over. You both couldn’t hide forever. 

“Doubts set in. Bad feelings, and then… It’s stupid really,” he shrugged, looking your way. “I saw a picture of you and him.” 

“Where?”

“On your cell phone.” Silence. You’d never actually deleted any of the picture you had of Seokjin. You didn’t know why at the time. Maybe because you had hardly any. That was probably exactly it. Holding on. 

“It was that night Lina dropped you off at my place crazy drunk. After you threw up you were in my bed trying to find pics of your dog… You were scrolling so fast, accidentally clicked on one of you and him. You didn’t even realise, went back to looking, but the image kinda burnt its way into my mind. It was a split second but the way you were looking at him fucked with my head. You’d never looked at me like that.” 

You felt the sudden urge to find the image, curious and sentimental. But Yoongi was still speaking, and you owed him this. 

“I told myself I was being an idiot, tried to put it past me, but it just kept coming back to haunt me… Kept thinking back to that night. I saw it then. The connection you guys had.” He stopped with a small groan, rubbing a hand over his face. Like he could still see the images.  You kept silent, unsure what you could say anyway. It made you feel awkward and guilty and you hated it. The three of you could’ve never predicted this. The detrimental side effects such a haphazard night could have caused you. 

“The night I… The night of that party I invited you to, I saw that Jin was there and got drunk. Couldn’t handle it, seeing him. It really did feel like our relationship was over.” Yoongi’s voice was rough with emotion by now. He’d been alone with these thoughts for quite some time, and no matter how okay he was now, the memories still hurt like he was right back there again. All you could do was listen to him politely, that night finally making sense to you now. 

“He found me in the bedroom, tried getting me downstairs, said we’d find you. I hated the way he said your name. I hated him.” He laughed at his bitterness back then, reliving it. “He was everything I wasn’t, even if you didn’t realise it, and yet I still crossed the line.” A pause. He needed it. “I suggested something...something stupid because I thought it could get us back on track. I thought I was making it all up. There was no you and him. If I could just control the situation – be in control. I was out of mind but I wanted to show Jin he wasn’t shit anymore.” 

That night had never seemed explainable. Yoongi’s first explanation at the time of the break up, about how he wanted things to go back to how they were, never really made any sense to you. You guess it was because it was only partly the truth. He’d suggested a repeat because of selfish reasons. Drunk and worn out, he was at his end’s tether. It would’ve never worked. God knows what would’ve happened. Yoongi truly hated Seokjin that night, no wonder he’d nearly tried to start a fight. Maybe there was still a little bit of distaste there. You didn’t miss the way Yoongi rarely said his name, referring to Seokjin as ‘he’ or ‘him’ most of the time. You guessed no matter how much Yoongi accepted things, there would always be that slight animosity. 

“We should’ve never made up after that. I should’ve apologised and ended things, but I was really weak,” Yoongi murmured. “I knew we were as good as dead, but I kept trying. I wanted us to work out so bad.” 

“So did I,” you whispered in agreement, feeling a little overcome with emotion. Just remembering back to that time. You were so scared he was going to end things. Those four days of silence nearly drove you crazy. You couldn’t think of much else. It made you push your feelings for Seokjin away even harder… You had this perfect thing with Yoongi and you needed to keep it going. At least Yoongi and you were on the same deluded page with that… 

“I know.” He sounded sad. “That’s why breaking your heart absolutely ruined me, but I knew it wouldn’t stay broken for long. I knew you’d find your way back to him.” 

And you had. Pretty much immediately. You should tell him. He’d been so honest with you. 

“That night I was so upset, needed someone to talk to. I drove over to Seokjin’s place. I crashed a date he was on but he sent her home and let me inside. We talked, I stayed over. Nothing happened,” you insisted, locking his gaze. You needed Yoongi to know that. “But it was the start of something. I found my way back to him without realising why. I just had this urge to see him.” 

Yoongi smiled, shaking his head a little in surprise. “Damn…” Whatever he was thinking he didn’t divulge. You didn’t think it was bad though. He sounded fine enough when he spoke again. “To be honest, I already thought you guys had started seeing one another again. Saw you around campus a lot, online too. Kihyun saw you at the movie theatre once…” 

You hadn’t thought about that. People make assumptions, like to gossip, but you never considered they’d think you and Seokjin were already a thing. Just like Brian had. Maybe you were so caught up in your own little world it didn’t matter to you… 

“It doesn’t shock me you guys are going to start dating. Called it long ago,” he joked. You laughed along, albeit it a little awkwardly. “But you wanting to talk to me does. It’s really touching.” He nudged your shoulder with his gently again, smiling across at you. “Sorry. I’m lame.” 

You sighed. Still felt guilty. “You’re not, Yoongi. You’re really sweet and kind. I’m so sorry we didn’t work out. Sorry I messed you around… You wasted all that time on me…” 

“What?” He exclaimed softly. “I didn’t waste anything on you. I don’t look back and regret us. It just wasn’t meant to be.” A small shrug. “That’s fine. That’s life. But,” he added, side eyeing you. 

“No, go on,” you urged, sensing his hesitation. 

“I think… I think if you and he were never a thing, me and you would’ve been different.” 

Your eyes widened, not expecting the words that left his mouth. He straightened his back, sensing your reluctance to reply. Did you agree with that? It was hard to imagine a life without Seokjin. You didn’t want to. 

Yoongi chuckled to himself. “I’m allowed to have a selfish thought one last time, right?” 

You nodded, smiling softly. Maybe he was correct. There had definitely been a connection there between you both. It just wasn’t able to grow because of the inconspicuous elephant in the room… However, Yoongi deserved someone better than you. You wanted to tell him that, but before you could he was speaking again. 

“I’m happy you’re beginning to work things out with him. Really am. You must be really excited.” 

“Yeah, I am,” you as good as gushed. Unable to help yourself regardless of how inappropriate it was. 

Yoongi was fine with it though, laughing quietly. “And I hope things are going good with you in general. How are you? How are classes? Work? Family?” 

You could tell the conversation was drawing to a close now. All the important stuff, all that needed to, had been said. Closure. Now all that was left was small talk. A catch up. You asked him about everything too, if he was dating. He said not at the moment, was satisfied with being single. You couldn’t argue with that. There was no rush. He apologised for not keeping in touch. Said being friends was easier said than done, and his ego had been bashed for a while. That, and he hadn’t wanted to impose on you and Seokjin.  

You talked some more as he walked you back, his phone ringing as you reached your car. “It’s Yijeong,” he laughed, seeing the Caller ID. 

“What’s so funny?” 

“He’s definitely wondering how it went. What’s going on.” You watched Yoongi hit ‘ignore’ and shove his cell back in his jeans pocket. “Your message kinda freaked me out so I showed him and no word of a lie, he suggested you may be pregnant.” 

“Oh my god.” Your jaw dropped open. Hm. Maybe the message you’d sent had been a little dramatic and cryptic… 

Yoongi grinned. “I’ll let him sweat it out a little longer. Make it more dramatic for when I get back.” 

You shook your head, laughing. “Poor guy is probably worried.”  

“Who, Jeong? No way! He lives for drama.” 

Fair enough. You didn’t know his roommate that well anyway. You opened up your car, turning back to jerk your head towards the passenger side. “Want a ride home?” His place was near the grocery store. 

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. Thanks for the offer though.” You nodded, expecting him to decline anyway, and got inside. 

“I’ll see you?” You called, always rubbish at goodbyes. 

“See you around!” He agreed, waiting for you start the engine up. He raised a hand as you reversed and you waved back as you drove off, watching him from your mirror until he was out of sight. You smiled to yourself, feeling happy with how things had gone. 

Today was a good day. 

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Clarity. 

You’d always liked Seokjin. You really had. All this time. Clueless. Oblivious. Ignorant. Whatever you wanted to call it, you’d been it. Everything made sense now. All the little things. Why the Sohee news had cut you up so badly. Why your distaste for Jemma was weirdly strong… You were jealous, hurt. Things had only began sinking in these past few weeks, yet you still hadn’t the courage to admit it to yourself. Down to a mixture of things maybe. Misconceptions over his character at first. How could you fall for such a guy? 

Oh, how wrong you’d been. The more you’d gotten to know him, you’d seen he was probably better than all your exes put together. It was only a matter of time before the feelings set in. Emotions took hold. But you’d needed to protect your own heart. Defence up. Seokjin liking you back was an impossible concept. There was no point even imagining it. Therefore you didn’t. You’d fooled yourself into thinking it was just sex. That you didn’t hold any feelings for him, and if anything you found him quite irritating. In reality, you were mad at him. Mad at him for not reciprocating the beating in your chest. How dumb were you to have never realised. When things had grown stale it was because you were fed up, not because you were bored like you’d mistakingly thought. 

When you’d fallen for Yoongi it was because he could give you everything you wanted from Seokjin. That’s why you’d pushed it away even harder. Guilt. For both guys. Yoongi never deserved to be second best, caught in the middle so to say. A pawn… Not that you ever saw him as that. You had truly liked him, but in reality he was just a distraction from what you couldn’t have. And Seokjin… Poor Seokjin. 

Thinking of all the hurt you’d caused him made your gut feel heavy. He’d had to watch you fall for Yoongi, know he was losing you to another man and then see it all unfold. He was there for you during the argument at that party, walked you home like a gentleman and then politely sidestepped your kiss. God. The near kiss. It was easy to pretend that never happened, but it had. He had still held back though. It could’ve been easy to accept your advances, but he knew you were with Yoongi and he’d respected that. Despite a previous encounter putting that in doubt. Again, you were guilty of misjudging him. 

You saw that now, and like Yoongi had said earlier, you knew Seokjin had a reputation. Every girl on campus wanted a bit of him. He didn’t do relationships, he didn’t do love. You were the complete opposite in that fact. Fleeting from one relationship to the next, desperate for that feeling. Love. Falling for a guy who wouldn’t ever love you back seemed pointless. Even these past couple of months you were still in denial. Seokjin didn’t like you like that, he just wanted to be your friend so why bother getting your hopes up. Even when the flirting started back up again, the subtle touches, the lingering glances. Just friends, that’s what you’d told yourself. Just like you’d told yourself it was just fucking at the very beginning… 

It had always been more than that. You were lying to yourself. What you had with Seokjin was a connection you’d never had with another guy before. Hell, maybe even person. Lina was your best friend, yes, but there was a vulnerability you had with Seokjin you could never get with her. No, what you had with Seokjin was something deeper, something that you had stupidly self-destructed. But against all odds, it had waited patiently. Somehow you’d found your way back to one another, and you weren’t giving up now. Not when you’d faced all your fears. Gotten all the answers. Realised the truth. 

Seokjin. Nervous Seokjin. Scared Seokjin. Kind Seokjin. Patient Seokjin. You’d never misjudge him again. These past couple of months had been your chance to do things properly. Get to know one another correctly and without distractions, because Seokjin really did want you. He’d wanted you for a long time. Through everything. 

Just the thought of knowing he’d had to listen to you the night of your break up with Yoongi, killed you, now knowing what you did. You’d been selfish, although you weren’t to know it. Even today. It had taken some balls to finally admit he really liked you, and you’d just taken it, unable to tell him what was on your mind too. Strong Seokjin. Your Seokjin. You really wanted him to be yours, and you were finally going to tell him how you felt. After all this time. You and him were finally going to happen. Properly. 

The knock on your door reminded you, and as soon as you opened it, saw his face, his goofy, nervous smile, you knew. Everything was as clear as it was ever going to get. Every feeling and emotion you’d kept at bay for so long crystallised into something certain. Something you could touch, and hold, and love. Did this idiot realise he was the one you wanted to fall in love with? You’d tell him, but maybe that was too strong a hello…

“Your hair is still wet.” 

Better. Less intense. 

He chuckled, head down as he ruffled the dark locks with his fingers. “Didn’t want to wait around.”

You smiled. Cute. He’d messaged you not even forty-five minutes ago, telling you he was clocking off from the gym and if it was still okay for him to come over. Of course it was, but he’d needed a quick shower first. You swore his cheeks were still pink from the heat. Maybe it was something else… Double cute. And the lilac hoody helped too. You’d never seen it on him before. 

“How was work?” You asked, making your way over to the couch. 

“Boring. Couldn’t wait to get out of there.” He spoke quickly, almost impatiently. You got it. You’d waited all day for this too, and he wasn’t beating around the bush. “How are you? Did you manage to tell Yoongi?” 

You nodded, almost feeling hesitant to say the next part. He wouldn’t mind, but still. “I met up with him.” 

“Oh.” He wasn’t expecting that.  

Chuckling nervously, you explained. “Yeah. I think I freaked him out with a foreboding text so he asked if I wanted to meet up.” 

“What happened? Can I sit?” He added, motioning to the couch.  

You wanted to tell him of course he could. He never had to ask, but you were fit to burst. Impatient too, with the need to confess, so you nodded instead. 

“It went well. No. Really good.” You sat down too, chuckling again. You were beyond nervous now. Giddy. “It’s funny actually. Yoongi wasn’t shocked at all.” 

“Oh. Well that’s amazing then.” He grinned, a genuine look of relief on his face. “So he’s okay with it?” 

You took a deep breath. This was easy to say. No need to be scared. “He already knew I liked you. It’s the reason he broke up with me.” Relief turned to perplexity. Things stopped adding up for him, but you were on a roll, babbling now. “Seokjin, I’m finally able to admit it to myself. I’ve had like ten different epiphanies since I last saw you.”

“Slow down.” He reached for your hand, a chuckle leaving him. You were speaking too fast for him to make sense of your words. “What do you mean? You’re worrying me. Are they good epiphanies?” 

You laughed then, a mix of crystal clarity and pure joy. “I like you, Seokjin.” It all came easy now. “Like really like you. For the longest time, and I never let myself realise.” You were sure he was holding his breath. “Even now, these past few weeks when I was slowly grasping it and letting myself feel things for you, I wasn’t really. Do you get me?” 

Seokjin’s pupils flitted around nervously. “Not really. I mean, maybe I do, but I don’t want to look like a fool if I’m wrong.” He smiled then. Of course he got you. 

You smiled back. “It’s always been you.” He gripped your hand harder and you wound your fingers in his. “Before we became this, hanging out. Friends or whatever. Before Yoongi broke up with me. That’s why I turned up at your door that night.” You spoke slower now, mind at ease. The scariest part was over. “Before Yoongi. Long before. I just never realised and I’m such an idiot.” 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he smiled, his free hand reaching out to stroke your hair. The affection of such an action caught your breath. “Don’t call yourself that. I hate when you put yourself down.” You giggled shyly. He held your gaze. “If you’re an idiot, so am I. By the time I realised it was too late.” 

“I’m sorry.” Those two words didn’t seem enough. “I just never thought we’d be here like this. If I’d have had any idea, I would’ve never— Me and Yoongi…” Even if for a split second you’d thought Seokjin and you could’ve been the real deal, you would’ve never even looked at Yoongi as more than a friend. It seemed like a cop out, but it was true. 

“But you did like him though. Right?” Seokjin asked, tilting his head as he tried to read your reaction. “At the time.” He sounded a little eager for the answer. He wanted to hear the truth.  

You nodded slowly. Your feelings for the other guy had been real, they just weren’t true. “I did. I just… I didn’t think me and you were anything more than sex. I never even contemplated us being together like that because it genuinely seemed so far fetched.” Painful honesty. 

Seokjin took it well, almost as if he’d already guessed as much. “I understand. I think I took us– no, you,” he corrected himself, “for granted during that time. I’ve never had a girlfriend. Never anything serious. You were the closest it came and even then I was too fucking stupid to see it.” He laughed bitterly. You didn’t like the sound. It was filled with regret. “I don’t blame you for falling for him. I really don’t. I blame myself. I’m the one who’s sorry.” 

You shook you head, wanting to argue with him. You could dispute it until the sun set and rose again. About who was sorrier, but where would that get you? No. What was done was done now. All you could do was talk it out. Explain what happened and what went wrong. Get that closure and move on. Move forward. 

“I think I fell for the idea of him though,” you whispered. “He’s pretty perfect. Everything we had, I wanted. It just wasn’t with him specifically.” You paused, nudging Seokjin almost playfully. “It was with you.” He gave you a half smile. You figured he was still feeling the guilt. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.” You reassured. “I didn’t think we would work like that.” 

A scoff. “You didn’t think it because you were under the impression I didn’t want it. I did.” He insisted. “I really did. I found that out when you dumped me for him, and man did it suck.” You ignored the stab in your heart. Concentrated on listening to him. “Hoseok told me I was heartbroken but I didn’t really believe him until, you know…” He hesitated. You could see him wrestling with himself to say it. “The threesome.” 

“That’s when it all just kinda sunk in. When we cut off contact. It was final. No more me and you, and it sucked balls. Big fat ones.” He tried to laugh at his own joke. You joined in, but you found nothing funny right about now. “I spent the next few weeks trying to get over you. Even though it had just become so fresh.” 

“Seokjin, I had no idea.” You felt helpless. How could you even think to comfort him when it had all been down to you in the first place. If you’d had any clue, you would’ve never indulged in that night. Yet, you would’ve never guessed he was harbouring secret feelings for you… Oblivious once again. No wonder he’d seemed so frustrated with you at first that night. 

He shrugged. Small smile on his face. “You weren’t to know. I hid it well.” 

Silence fell over you both for a moment. It was a lot to take in. A lot to think about. You were sure he was confessing things he hadn’t planned to. Perhaps it ran deeper than you both initially thought. But no matter what, there was still something painfully clear in the forefront of your mind. “I feel like we wasted all this time.” 

You felt even more helpless because of that. Come on, you’d been wasting time up until a few hours ago. If you’d actually let yourself feel instead of pushing everything deep down inside of you, Seokjin and you could’ve been together sooner. Happier sooner. 

You were going around in circles. Telling yourself not to dwell on the past, yet letting it consume you in your next breath. 

“Don’t think like that,” Seokjin smiled, hand in your hair again. You moved into him, feeling his warm palm on your cheek. “I mean, it’s all working out now, right? Sounds like it.” Here he was, your voice of reason. The one who could make you keep a positive mindset in the most darkened of times. He’d always been the same, even back then… When you used to call him up with a stress headache, unable to sleep, and he’d somehow get you dropping off within minutes. Where had it all gone wrong? What had you both been so afraid of? 

The absence of his touch across your cheek when he brought the hand back to his lap made you concentrate on the other that was entwined with yours. You’d never seen anything so perfect. It made you want to try even harder. 

“I just… I remember how I was feeling back then.” You began, memories twisting in your gut. “When our thing was fizzling out. I was all impatient and empty feeling. It came to a point where I was just fed up.” Those thoughts seemed nonsensical now. 

Seokjin nodded. ”I felt that. I ignored it though, because I didn’t want to admit it was over and you wanted Yoongi now, not me.” That night he turned up drunk at your door popped into your head again. You think that was when he finally came to terms with it. The next morning he’d rushed from your apartment without so much as a good morning. Things had only gotten worse after that. “I knew I was losing you, there just wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.” 

You should’ve realised there was something wrong when Seokjin knew it was Yoongi you were seeing. You’d mentioned the nameless first date and then just shut up. It had gone amazing, began flourishing and you’d kept it quiet from Seokjin. Just let him find out by himself. You’d made a lot of mistakes back then. It was obvious why now. 

“I think I was subconsciously waiting for you to make the next move. I remember getting these feelings when you used to kiss me or cuddle up to me in bed, but I could never describe them and you never did it for long enough to make me realise that I liked you.” There were multiple occasions to hand. Even now just letting yourself remember back. The feelings now clear, came flooding back. Your favourite memory together. When he tried to build your bed frame… 

“I think I was bitter at you. That’s why it was so easy to walk away.” 

“I get that.” He understood, before sighing. “I remember I used to hold myself back sometimes because I didn’t want to freak you out. But I know now that I also didn’t want to freak myself out. I used to stop kissing you when I was enjoying myself too much. Used to wake up in the middle of the night to find myself hugging you and just move away, turn my back to you.” The twisting in your gut began to ease, a glow in your chest now. Yes, It was easy to get caught up in your mistakes, but you needed to see what was here now. What the past meant for you now. 

“We both were dumb dumbs,” you laughed under your breath. Were. Past tense. It’s what those mistakes made you as people now. You easily saw your flaws looking back, knew Seokjin could see his too. It was about growing. Changing. You’d done a lot of that these past couple of months. Together. As one. 

“Things are different now.” You sounded firm. You were getting what you wanted. Gripping life by the balls. “I’ve always waited around for stuff to happen.” In hindsight you saw it was down to fear. “I did it with you without realising and I did it with Yoongi too. Just waiting for the milestones to play out. Like how they do in a serious relationship.” You scoffed, thinking back. “I’d found the perfect guy and I was just waiting… Not doing. Not pushing. Just emptily waiting for it all to happen…” You were waiting for something to happen with the wrong guy. That was the reality. 

You held Seokjin’s gaze, letting yourself smile. You needed him to understand this part clearly. “With you this time around, I didn’t have to do that. It just happened on its own accord.” You smiled harder. “We work together. Naturally.” It was infectious. He couldn’t help but smile either. “We were friends, used to be more, and now it’s finally morphing into what we wanted all along.” 

You paused and swallowed. “–and for me, not because I want a boyfriend, or just to be in a relationship. I just want you. I want to be near you, and I wanna touch you. Make you smile. Make you laugh.” He did so on cue. The sound you’d grown so fond of. The sound that spread a warmth through your belly and up to your chest as you clasped ahold of his other hand, squeezing tightly as you laughed along with him. In your own little world. “I’m just happy to be in this with you.” There wasn’t much else to it. Simple. 

“You don’t know how happy that makes me to hear that,” he confessed, voice lowering as he leaned in closer. “I said earlier, but never think I was using the friend thing as an excuse. I’d already given up on us. Thought I’d missed my opportunity and yeah, sometimes there were glimmers of hope. Selfish of me. When I witnessed you and him have that argument.” Pausing to close his eyes, he sighed gently. “When you broke up and told me you didn’t love him. It was really fucking selfish of me actually. You were going through shit and I was there wondering if it was because of me that you weren’t in love with him.” 

That night came back to you. Seokjin had almost pried the information out of you, lying on his bed. He’d been eager to know why you had chosen him for comfort. Eager to know if you loved Yoongi and why you’d thought he was the one. You looked back with different eyes now. 

“That’s why I pushed it away. Being your friend was the next best thing to being your boyfriend.” Boyfriend. The word made your heart jump. “I wanted to show you different sides to me. I’d done a lot of growing up in your absence. Maybe the hope was still there a little, but I ignored it for a while. I wanted to show you the person I could be. The person I was when serious.” 

“I knew that person existed anyway,” you said softly. “Not that I don’t like every side of you.” 

It was true. You loved every part of him. In the past you’d been wilfully ignorant of the more serious sides of Seokjin. You knew they were there, they slipped out sometimes. He struggled with them. Didn’t like being taken too seriously, thought it made him vulnerable. He was sometimes. Got shy and embarrassed easily. Got nervous or tongue tied a lot. You ignored it just to make him feel better. His best defence mechanism was his ego. He’d been hiding behind that for a long, long time. Still did, but these days he’d learnt to drop it front of you. Maybe you’d ignored it harder because you were scared it meant you’d have to do the same thing. Drop everything. You hid behind a lot too… Well, not anymore. 

“Besides, I showed you different sides of me too,” you grinned. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, as if thinking hard... “Yeah, come to think of it, I did notice you were nicer.” 

“Hey,” you exclaimed, pouting. 

“Just kidding.” He laughed, letting go of your hands to to cup your face. “Of course I’m kidding.” And then he was closing the gap suddenly, mouth on yours. He kissed you almost delicately, bottom lip between his. You closed your eyes, knowing now this was it. No more regrets, no more sadness over lost time. What mattered was that you were here now. You were both ready, and that obviously wasn’t the case all that time ago. 

“Sorry. Just went for it,” he murmured when he broke away. 

“Don’t be sorry.” You smiled almost drunkenly, tipsy off the feeling of pure happiness. You gripped your hands around his sides. All you could reach properly sat facing one another, knees meshed together. “I’ve wanted to kiss you all day.” All night actually, but the fleeting kiss this morning had added fuel to the fire. 

“It’s your lucky day then. I have plenty more where that came from.” He whispered, lips soon on yours again. This time was a little more confident, but just as gentle. His fingers threaded through your hair and you wanted to touch him more too. You let his hoody go to place your hands either side of his neck, pulling him close to you. He took an uneven breath and you used the moment his lips were parted to slip your tongue inside his mouth, finding his and softy drawing them together. He tasted minty. You smiled into him. You’d also brushed your teeth before he arrived. 

Somehow the kiss found its way into an embrace, your arms snug around his middle, face against his chest and one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d never get over hugging Seokjin. It was a new feeling all together. Made you feel at ease. Warm. Safe. Like everything was right with the world. 

“Have you told Lina yet?” He murmured into your shoulder. 

You shook your head, pulling away reluctantly to reply. Not before giving him a quick kiss though. “I wanted to have this day. She’ll be into it though. Was practically begging me to make a move last night.” He gave you a look of disbelief. But that was a conversation for another time. “Told any of the guys?” 

Smiling nervously. Maybe shyly, he scratched behind his ear. “I may have told Sandeul something. It was just really hard to hide. Said I was acting weird this morning. Said he’d never seen me smile so much.” A chuckle. “I didn’t tell him much though because I was unsure what was going on between us.” 

“What will you tell him tonight?” You teased. Leaning in, head tilted. 

“That… You and I are going to give things a go again. Like properly. It’s not even again really. It’s all new, and I’m equal parts excited and terrified.” He paused. “How does that sound?” 

“It sounds correct,” you nodded, stoking his hand. They’d become entwined again. “But, no need to be terrified. How come?” 

“I’m just really scared.” His honesty took you by surprise. “Saying all my feelings out loud. I’ve never done that before. But I need to. For us… I’m just,” he shook his head, laughing at himself. He thought he was being stupid. “What if I mess it up? Did last time. I don’t know what to do sometimes. All I know is that I really, really like you.” 

You understood the fear of the unknown. But you were in this together. Each other’s moral support, and yes, you really, really liked him too. “You won’t. I won’t. Nothing’s changed from yesterday.” You reassured him. “Last week. Last month. Hell, from all those months ago. We just get to…” You trailed off to show him instead, mouth on his. 

Really, nothing was going to change, just now you got to show one another how you felt. The jump from friendship to something more wasn’t that daunting considering your past. The only thing that had been daunting, was admitting your feelings. The hard part was over. 

Maybe. The thought popped into your head suddenly. There was still some things you were curious about. Things you’d been thinking of on and off for a few weeks. They were uncalled for back then, now maybe not… 

“Hey. I just wanna ask,” you started, hand on his chest as you pulled away. “I know this may seem stupid or like I’m prying…” Seokjin quirked an eyebrow, silently telling you to continue. 

You puffed up your cheeks and blew out the air softly. “How many girls have you been with since me?” You didn’t miss the way his eyes bulged. He definitely hadn’t been expecting that. You rushed to explain yourself. “You don’t owe me anything. I just want… I haven’t been with anyone else since Yoongi. Maybe it’s obvious.” 

This was a fresh start, and you wanted things to be easy and open. You’d spoken quite candidly and casually about sexual partners in the past. You knew Seokjin’s sexual history quite well, no judgement. He knew yours too, but now there was a gap in knowledge. It would put your mind at ease. You didn’t want the details, names even, just an idea. You felt silly for asking, but by the way Seokjin chuckled, he didn’t seem to mind. 

“I don’t know, we kinda kept that conversation dead,” he shrugged. You agreed. It was a no-go area for a while. Both probably scared they’d hate the potential answers. “There’s just been two.” He told you simply. You held your breath. Shocked, but not wanting to admit it. 

“One super soon after things ended. Like a week? I remember I was still in denial. Kinda mad at you maybe… I saw you post a pic with Yoongi online. Found myself picking my phone up and calling this girl I’d hooked up with once ages ago.” You were shocked at the amount of info he was giving out too, but then again, maybe he needed this. Therapeutic to an extent? You listened.

“It was dumb. I didn’t enjoy it. It felt weird. Wasn’t you. I hated myself for thinking like that.” He groaned then, pulling a face. “The second time was just before… Just before the threesome.” Oh. “I thought I’d give it another go. Get myself back out there. Tinder stroked my ego for a bit, let me act like an unapologetic dick.” He shrugged. “The usual. I was so determined to prove Hoseok wrong but well. Jesus. It was the most embarrassing night of my life. I don’t know why I’m going into detail,” he chuckled lowly. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you offered. Didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. 

“No, it’s you. I don’t mind looking like a fool.” He insisted. “Besides, I haven’t told anyone it happened. Might help expel the deep-set trauma.” Okay. His joke got you curious. There was a beat of silence and then he went for it. “I couldn’t keep it up. I panicked and pretended I came. I don’t think she bought it.” 

“Oh, Seokjin,” you exclaimed, unable to keep a straight face. You wrapped your arms around his neck and stretched to kiss him, feeling guilty for laughing. 

It was okay though. He joined in and reached for your arms. “I can laugh about it now but at the time I was just… It was more than being embarrassed.” He hesitated. It got serious again quick. “I-I realised I didn’t want anyone else. Not even casually like I had before. If it wasn’t you, then what was the point?” 

You pulled away, giving him some breathing room. You knew what was coming next. Or at least you thought you did. “I felt mad, sad at the same time. It’s how… I didn’t know what to do. I wanted things to go back to how they were. Me and you.” You kept quiet, already playing out the events you were sure he was going to bring up next. 

“I text you the night after. I didn’t really know what I was doing. What I was after. I was really quite drunk, thought drowning my sorrows might help. You seemed disinterested but I didn’t stop. I’m so ashamed now.” He sounded mortified. “I should’ve just left it but I pushed.” 

Semi disinterested. Because no matter how much you’d tried to ignore it, something was still there. You did remember thinking Seokjin was acting more obnoxious than usual though. Like it seemed forced. No wonder…  

“Wanting you so bad turned me into something I wasn’t. Like I know some people might think I’m an arrogant jerk who thinks with his dick but that’s not me really.” A shrug. “Maybe it was that night though. I wasn’t acting with my heart, not really, because I wouldn’t have… I don’t even know what I wanted…” A sigh. “I just really missed you. I wanted to show you that Yoongi wasn’t the guy for you. Maybe I wanted to hurt you a little. Like you’d hurt me.” A scoff. “Like I said, selfish. Somehow it ended like it did. God knows how.” 

What could you really say to that? No one could’ve ever predicted that night. You guessed his original plan had to talk to you, but then you’d hurt him with your flippant remarks. Things had only changed when Yoongi appeared. Seokjin couldn’t take the full blame. The situation had snowballed. 

“I never said how sorry I was for that night.” His voice was small. “I feel like I ruined everything. Ruined you and Yoongi like I’d wanted all along. I don’t know about now though… You just kinda disproved it.” Yep. The night hadn’t ruined what you and Yoongi had, but you should’ve taken it as a sign. A bad omen. 

“You don’t need to apologise. There was three of us that night. We all made the decision.” Talking about the threesome wasn’t in your plan today. You’d rather just put it behind you, but you had to admit, it felt freeing to get it all off your chest. “But yeah. You didn’t ruin anything. Me and Yoongi were over long before that. Long before we even started.” 

“You seemed like you regretted it though.” You lifted your head up in surprise. You’d never regretted it. Seokjin had been under that impression for a while now, and he was painfully wrong. No matter what, you would never wish it hadn’t happened. “The night of the break up. You thought it was why he ended things.” 

“I was confused that night. Clueless. Seokjin, I don’t regret it. It’s okay if you do, I totally understand, but just know I’m okay with what happened.” It was his turn to look shocked now, but you needed to add something. “The threesome, it happened because my feelings for you still lingered undetected. I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. Yoongi… I don’t know… He wanted to prove a point. Maybe deep down he knew me and him weren’t the real deal. Subconsciously.” You shook your head. It wasn’t down to you to try and understand his reasonings. “I don’t know, but yeah, I need you to know I don’t regret a thing. Mm?” 

If he had any guilt over the situation, you wanted it to be eradicated. You wouldn’t have him worrying over stupid shit. It was in your past, not your present. 

“I understand.” He gave you a smile to appease you. You didn’t totally believe it, but you didn’t want to drag the conversation on. It was obvious Seokjin had a lot of troubles when it came to his own reasonings for that night. It all made sense now, when he’d told you he regretted it weeks ago. He’d hated the way he’d acted. 

“Can I ask one more thing?” You added after a moment. Not wanting to be annoying, but you were still wondering about what more thing, and he hadn’t brought her up yet… 

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Jemma…?” 

His eyes widened. Kinda like he’d forgotten all about her. He laughed, looking embarrassed. “Yeah, that was another crazy decision on my part. Shit. Where to start…” He sighed loudly. “I hadn’t been involved with anyone since that night and I knew I needed to just get over it. Get over you.” Okay, you saw where this was going. “I just didn’t want to be the old me. I wanted… a relationship? I know I wanted one with you, but I couldn’t have that so I just pushed on through with…” 

He seemed reluctant to continue for a moment and sighed again. “Jemma liked me. It was easy, she was just there. The date happened because I’d finally accepted you were with Yoongi. The night I walked you back home… I know things – I know things ended in an argument with you and him, but regardless, that changed nothing between us. You still didn’t want me like I wanted you. Or so I thought.” He cleared his throat. You wondered what he thought about the near kiss but decided not to ask. 

“I went back to the party and she kissed me. I didn’t stop her. She kept messaging me afterwards and I just thought I’d go for it. Ask her on a date. Regretted it immediately. I think maybe dinner at my place was a little too romantic? Gave her the wrong idea…” You laughed, he joined in. “Annd then you turned up at my door. Saved me. She meant nothing. I was a dick. But maybe you’d think differently.” 

You chuckled. Okay, you got it. He sensed you didn’t like her. “No. She’s fine… at a distance.” 

“Yeah, I get that.” He agreed.

“Sorry, I feel like I’m interrogating you.” 

“No, no,” he insisted, a hand reaching to hold your face. “I want to tell you these things. They’ve just been playing on my mind most of the time anyway.” He gave a little shrug. “It feels good to let my thoughts out.” 

You agreed silently, nodding before you hugged him, pushing his back against the couch. You pulled away and rested your head on his shoulder. He took the chance to caress his fingers through your hair, sending your eyes closed. This was it. This was your perfect. Seokjin was just that, the guy who just got you. You gelled together so easily, and you got him too. He was perfect. 

“Hey, this may sound dumb.” Seokjin spoke again. A murmur really. You opened your eyes, lifting your head a little to see him. “I just… I’m really cool with taking things slow right now. I don’t want to fuck this up and I know sex won’t do that, but I want to do things properly.” He gave you a little smile. “Been imagining this for so long. Want to take you out on dates and stuff.” 

You grinned. “That sounds perfect.” Reaching up to kiss him like you couldn’t keep your lips apart. “I’m happy with whatever. Just want to be near you anyway. Have you like this.” Squeezing your arm around his middle, he grinned back happily. Honestly sex hadn’t crossed your mind today. Things were different now. It would happen naturally. You didn’t want to push things or rush them. There were better ways to have Seokjin. 

“Doesn’t mean we can’t kiss though.” He told you, leaning in. Lips warm you let yourself sink, giggling when he continued talking. “I have a lot of kisses to catch up on.” And he did. There was no need to say anything else, add to the conversation. Not right now anyway. You just wanted to be thought-free, to touch and feel Seokjin. Know that he was here and real, and this was it. This was what you’d wanted deep down for the longest time. No more hiding. No more denial. You were both on the same page. 

This time the kiss turned a little more eager, just like last night but with more confidence. A certainty that this wasn’t just some fluke. It was real, and you were his. He was yours. After all this time. And against your better judgement, maybe actions did speak louder than words. He took your breath away, again kissing you like the night he’d turned up at your door drunk. Only this time he wasn’t trying to prove anything, persuade you. There was no need. He was just able to kiss you like he meant it. 

He gripped your waist, his body weight pushing you down no matter how hard you tried to anchor yourself to him, hands clinging around his back. You were pushed into your cushions, sliding down slowly before he realised, letting up to laugh and apologise. He helped you sit straight again, adrenaline and pleasure high visible on his face. Cheeks flushed, lips wet and the deepest shade of pink you’d ever seen them. Or maybe your memory was shit. It was coming back to you now. Each kiss you’d shared. How much you’d loved every one.

“You wan-na—

You cut whatever question he was about to ask right off his mouth. Practically pouncing on him, knees digging into your sofa, arms wrapped around his neck. You kissed him hungrily. Loudly. Messily. Maybe this wasn’t as romantic as you were going for, but then again, it was. It really was.You were so caught up in your feelings, you couldn’t control it, and that was as romantic as it got. You were both on the same wavelength anyway, Seokjin gripping the back of your knee to help you lift your leg up and straddle him. He grunted when you landed on him with a bump, one hand digging into your side as the other held the back of your head, threading his fingers through your hair to keep you in place. 

This was it. Your wildest dreams come true. Come to think of it, you’d never even let yourself imagine this. It was forbidden. A sure way to heartbreak. But this was better than any form of fantasy. Kissing Seokjin was better than anything in the world. 

He on the other hand was a glutton for punishment. 

“You have no idea how many times I imagined this in my head.” You had to come up for air eventually. Lips kiss bitten, jaws sore, breathing heavy. You rubbed your nose against his, giggling quietly, happily. You hoped it lived up to expectations. By the grin on his face you guessed it did. 

He moved his arms to around your waist, holding you close as he kissed at your mouth sweetly. You’d never get used to that sensation. It was a new one all together. Something you’d never experienced before. He squeezed you gently, a whisper like confession against your lips. “I’m so glad Yoongi was okay with everything.”

“Seokjin,” you said, pulling away to run your fingers through his hair. He needed to understand something. “You do realise that even if he wasn’t, we’d still be here right now.” You cared about not hurting Yoongi’s feelings, yes, but somethings were just… You deserved your own happiness. Nothing would have kept you away. “I want you.” An assertion. Voice steady and certain. “And literally nothing is getting in my way now.” Even yourself. 

“Shit.” Seokjin muttered under his breath before he gave a low chuckle. “That sounds hot.” 

“I am hot,” you sassed, turning your nose up in the air. 

He nodded his head in full agreement. “Very hot. Extremely hot.” His mouth was coming for you again but you avoided its path, pulling his hood up over his head. “What are you doing?” He whined as you tugged on his (cute lopsided) drawstrings, tightening the fabric over his head. A lilac cocoon. So pretty. 

“You look cute!” 

“Cute?!” He pouted. “I don’t want you to call me cute!” You squealed, gripping onto his shoulders as he squeezed you tighter, pulling your chest to his. Any giggling was cut short when his tongue found you neck. Blame being ticklish but your throat was incredibly sensitive to pleasure and pair that with Seokjin’s devastating lips, you were putty in his hands. 

“You like that?” His voice shuddered up your wet skin and you let your head fall back, closing your eyes as you moaned. “How could I forget how pretty you sound when you moan?”

Fuck. How could you forget how good he was at this? Your heart was racing, body buzzed. You laughed in embarrassment, burying your face into his neck. He had no other option but to pull away, nuzzling your hair with his nose. 

“So unfair.” 

It took you a moment to realise what he was referring to. Teasing, but defeated and maybe a little embarrassed himself. Yep. That really was his erection you were sitting on. He’d done well up until this point. Not that you minded. By the heaviness between your legs, you knew your underwear was, shall you say, a little damp anyway. However, oddly, there was no frustration itching at your body. You were just happy to be here; kissing, sharing this moment. You both really did mean it. You wanted to wait. Take things as they came. 

“Glad I know I still have that affect on you,” you smirked, leaning back to take a look at his face. 

He was flushed, but sure of himself when he replied. “You always have. Ever since the first time.” 

You made a noise of disproval. “Seokjin, you had that erection before I walked in on you.”  

“No, no, no,” he insisted, stealing a kiss. You just laughed at him. He was dumb. Still humoured you though. “It was a semi. You’ve made it rock solid ever since.” 

That made you snort. Unable to believe your ears. Speechless, really. You wouldn’t think that called for another sweet ass kiss, but there you were, getting lost in the feeling of his mouth again. You could feel his smile beneath your hand on his face before he pulled away. Made you smile too even though you didn’t know what it was for. 

“I’m glad you found me.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding your chest. You were so insanely glad too it hurt your head. Who would’ve thought an ill-advised hook up would’ve led you here? You were so glad that the teeniest, tiniest part of your subconscious had been curious and hungry for Kim Seokjin’s dick back then. Well done you. 

You didn’t say that out loud though. Seokjin seemed genuinely serious, and you didn’t want to ruin the moment. You’d leave it for another time. Instead, you rolled his shoulder with your hand, tilting your head in question. “Even if it took us a while to get here?” 

He sighed in content, hugging you tightly. “That just makes it better.” 

Damn. He was about to turn you into a flustered mess. How dare he. Your cheeks rounded with a smile, chin dipping to kiss him. What were the chances your lips would be double the size come tomorrow? Not that it mattered… 

Seokjin chuckled. Sounded a little abashed. You questioned him with a little frown. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m just trying to be all romantic and you’re sitting on my seedy boner.” 

You bit on your grin. Tilting your head again. “It’s a reflex, right?” 

“Right.” He agreed. More than relieved you understood him perfectly. 

Written 2019-20. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

[daemour]

Summary: Seokjin is the crush of your entire school. He won the Prom King award six times, and he wasn't even in high school the first two times. Everyone loves him. But you're his neighbor, and you've seen his worst. You don't like him.

Warnings: Mild Cursing

For the @bangtanscenery​ collab, April Showers

Thank you to my betas, @moccahobi​ and @thebiasrekkers​

"Good morning to my amazing friend," Yoon Jeonghan greets you at the bus stop, and you grin at the designated pretty boy of the school, and your best friend.

"Alright, you barely suck up to me. What do you want?" You tease him, and Jeonghan elbows you.

"Can't I appreciate my best friend?" You raise an eyebrow at Jeonghan, and he stares you down. He loses the staring match. "Alright, fine. There's this deal at the local café, that if you bring a friend, you can get two dozen donuts for the price of one."

"You don't need to suck up to me for a chance for me to get donuts." Jeonghan snorts and slaps your arm playfully.

"I should've known your stomach would win you over."

"You don't know me well enough, I guess," you joke. Jeonghan ignores your jibe but still elbows you again. As you two wait in complete silence for the bus, the sound of footsteps alert you to another person coming. Kim Seokjin, the resident hunk of Kaidol High School, takes the same bus as you two. Unfortunately. While it isn't as bad for Jeonghan, as he's the pretty boy, you're just known as "Jeonghan's friend." That isn't great when everyone at school who likes Seokjin (and Jeonghan, quite often), knows you live in the same neighborhood as him.

The jocks tease you, but it isn't too bad, so you don't mind. And when Jeonghan is with you, which is often, people don't tease you. Seokjin doesn't hang out with you at school, so most people with a brain don't dislike you. Once in a while, when there's a particularly nasty rumor going around about Seokjin, you get a couple glares and sneers, but Jeonghan is usually around to protect you. He's protective.

You hate using that word to describe your relationship with Jeonghan. It makes your relationship sound one-sided like you only use him. But Jeonghan has been your best friend since kindergarten. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and the kids at school used to make fun of him for his long hair. You didn’t. So you became his friend. Way before the hierarchies of school began, you were Jeonghan's friend.

"Are you two just going to ignore me, then?" Seokjin interrupts your internal monologue. You and Jeonghan sigh at the same time.

"Hello, Seokjin," the two of you chime out at the same time.

"You two sound like robots," Seokjin sighs out dramatically. "Can't a guy get some warm greetings?" Jeonghan puts a hand on your shoulder, likely to get you to stop looking like you want to murder someone.

The bus arrives, and you and Jeonghan hop on as quickly as you can before Seokjin follows. You two manage to get your usual seats at the back of the bus, but this time, Seokjin follows. "Can I sit with you guys? My friends are being driven to school this time, so they aren't picking me up."

"What did they do now?" Seokjin isn't even fazed by your comments about his friend group.

"I think they tried keying someone's car?" You honestly don't know how Seokjin ended up with that friend group. You think that if he didn't stick around with those people, you would've gotten along with him. Well, Sandeul isn't that bad. You've talked to him a little before, and he seems like a nice guy, but you don't know much about Ken, Jooheon, and Wonkeun. You don't want to assume things about them, but you don't want to risk your perfect GPA just yet.

"Sounds like them." Seokjin is still not bothered by your comments, and you turn to Jeonghan awkwardly.

The rest of the bus ride is silent, save for Jeonghan cracking a joke, and you giggling like there's no tomorrow. When you reach school, Seokjin heads out first, likely to find his friends. You and Jeonghan get out a little later and immediately spot your group of friends.

Yugyeom is the cute airhead of your group, but he also has an "in" with the jocks. He's the best friend of Jungkook, the jock-est of all jocks and Seokjin's cousin. Jaehyung is the oldest of your little group and the mood maker. You've dubbed him the master of deadpan, and he enjoys the title. He's on the badminton team, and friends with another guy, Younghyun, who has somehow subconsciously made his way into your friend group. His name's Younghyun, but you call him Brian. He's a little younger than Jae, but his mood varies to be either super mature or six-years-old. Jae calls him annoying, but you think they're closer than they let on. Finally, there's Jennie, the outlier of your group. She's extremely popular, beautiful, and can easily influence half the student body with her pinky. You don't know why or how she decided you guys would be her friends, but you appreciate another girl around you.

"What's up, amigos?" Jae cheers, and you roll your eyes at him affectionately.

"Jae, you thought ocho was cinco, not just yesterday," you tease him. "I don't think you should be throwing out some Spanish."

Jae raises an eyebrow at you. "You may be fluent in French and English, (Y/N), but that doesn't mean you don't make mistakes as well."

"I don't think five is eight, or that cinq and huit are the same either, Mr. I-Lived-In-Argentina." Jae narrows his eyes, and you glare playfully right back.

"Low blow, (Y/N), low blow."

"It's true, though," Younghyun butts in, and you reach up to give him a high-five.

"See, even Brian agrees with me." Younghyun retracts his hand just as fast as he had butted into the conversation.

"Nope, I revoke my high-five. I'm not Brian."

"Brian’s your name."

"But Younghyun’s also my name," Younghyun counters, and you roll your eyes.

"I don't even know what you guys are arguing about, but let's skedaddle," Jennie jumps in. "We're going to be late."

You groan. "I don't want to go to class, though."

Yugyeom gapes at you. "You love your GPA too much to not go to class."

"Shut up, Yugyeom. I don't want to go to class because a certain someone always distracts me. It's annoying." You narrow your eyes at him playfully, and he pokes you in the forehead.

"If you keep making a face like that, your face will be stuck like that. Look at that wrinkle." You slap his hand away, and Yugyeom laughs.

"My face is priceless." With that sentence, you enter your class and find your seats.

Unfortunately, this class you weren't allowed to sit next to whoever, the teacher had assigned seats. And you were next to Seokjin. He does nothing but pass notes and crack snarky jokes in class. While you were trying to maintain your GPA by listening to the teacher, Seokjin made it extremely difficult. You're sure he doesn't MEAN to annoy you, but sometimes, when he's being particularly loud, he sneaks a peek at you, and you are in doubt.

For some reason, though, today, Seokjin is quiet. It's now your turn to sneak a glance toward him. You're not used to this. Where are all sniggers and whispered jokes? The strangest thing is when the teacher called on him, Seokjin just answered the question quietly and didn't say anything snarky and funny.

You try to look around the classroom discreetly. None of the other students seem to notice what's wrong, but you've been Seokjin's neighbor since late primary school. You know something's wrong. You may not like Seokjin, but you know how he is.

As you glance around the classroom, you notice something strange. Seokjin's friends aren't here. He said their parents would be driving them. You know Sandeul and Jooheon don't have this class at the same time as you and Seokjin, but Ken and Wonkeun do. Where are they? Did Seokjin lie? "Miss (L/N), since you seem bored, would you like to answer this question?"

You jump up from your seat, startled, and glance at the question on the board. Are people inherently good or evil? "No."

"No, you won't answer the question, or no, humans aren't inherently good or evil?"

You stand up and answer the question as quickly as possible. "I think human beings are inherently neither good nor evil. Their influences in life can help them make decisions that deem them either 'good' or 'bad,' but they are not born evil or good." You sit down with a thump, and there is no fanfare for your answer. The class just continues on.

But not for long, as the teacher dismisses you all. Before Seokjin can stand up and leave, as he is usually the first to get out, you grab his sleeve. "Wait for a second, Seokjin."

"What is it?" Now, this is very different. Seokjin always makes a snarky comment or teases you, but this time, he's just straight-up asking what you want?

"Where are Ken and Wonkeun? Don't they have this class?"

"They, um, they're not in school for the time being." Seokjin seems annoyed, but you press on more.

"Why? Are they okay?" If you were asked this morning if you think you'd be asking if Ken and Wonkeun were okay, you'd laugh in the questioner's face. But here you are.

"Their parents decided it's best if they go to a private school. Same for Jooheon." Oh. No wonder. Seokjin may be popular, but he didn't have that many actual friends who hung out with him every day.

"Ah." You sigh. "Do you, do you and Sandeul want to sit with us during lunch?"

"I'd appreciate it," Seokjin says slowly, sounding like he's contemplating whether or not it's a good idea. "We do have the same lunch period, right?"

"Yeah." You say after a quick thought. "Well, I have to skedaddle, so see you?" Your tone is confused like you're unsure of yourself, so you do skedaddle out of that classroom as fast as you can.

Yugyeom and Younghyun are waiting for you in the hall, as the others don't have the next class you're heading to. "Why'd you invite him to sit with us?" Younghyun asks. "I thought you didn't like him?"

"I don't dislike him, Brian. I just didn't want him to have to sit alone for the first time in his entire eighteen years of life." You shrug. You feel a presence behind you, and you turn around to see Seokjin glowering at you.

"I don't need your...pity." He spits out that last word, and you flinch.

"I wasn't trying to pity you, Seokjin. I was making an effort to be friends." You try to explain, but Seokjin isn't hearing any of that.

"You don't need to act like a mother to me. I can do just fine by myself," he seethes and storms away, and you stare after him in shock.

"Ignore him," Younghyun tries to comfort you, putting an arm around your shoulders and drawing you away from Seokjin. "Let's just head to class." You walk with him, Yugyeom hanging slightly behind, unsure of whether to speak up. He decides not to, and the rest of you make it to class without any further disturbances.

The next class is math, so you're focusing on taking notes, but your friends aren't. They're glancing at you, and you must say it's slightly uncomfortable. What are they doing? You shake it off, and when the teacher starts to drone off-topic, you take a break from writing. Your mind wanders. Are you really annoyingly like a mother? Why would Seokjin say something like that? As you dwell on the subject, you don't even notice the teacher is back on topic, and class passes without a second thought from you. When the bell rings, you jump in your seat.

As the three of you head out of class, Jaehyung and Jeonghan catch up with you. "Hey, nerds," Jae says, and Younghyun rolls his eyes. Jae socks him in the arm.

"You're literally going into political science, Jae. Don't be a stupid hypocrite." Younghyun rolls his eyes at Jae.

"I'm not. That's why I'm going into poli-sci." Jae pinches Younghyun's cheek after that sentence, and Younghyun pouts.

"Jae, stop bullying Brian," you mumble absentmindedly. Then your eyes widen. You're doing it again, aren't you? Being a mother.

"Hey, (Y/N), you all right?" You smile at Jeonghan tightly.

"Yeah, just thinking," you reply quietly, and Jeonghan cocks his head.

"About what? You never think." You snort, and Jeonghan dodges your hand.

"Graduating early. I'm thinking about doing it," you lie. Jeonghan quiets, and everyone else's attention is on you. "The principal said I can."

"Why the sudden decision?" Younghyun asks. You sigh.

"I don't know. I feel like it'll give me some time to think about college. And wouldn't it look good on my resume?" Even if you did lie about what you were thinking about, you were planning on graduating early. You just weren't expecting to tell your friends.

Jae hums in contemplation. "Yes, but you will have a lot less time to decide on a college if you want to start college during spring. If you don't, then you need to work full-time."

"I think I will. I haven't told anyone but Jeonghan yet, but I got accepted on a full ride to NYU." Yugyeom chokes, and everyone else beams at you.

"That's great!" You jump at Jennie's voice. When did she arrive? "I'm planning on going to NYU as well! I'll be a year behind you since I have to finish four years of school first, unlike you, but I will be seeing you at college then! I also think Yugyeom's going to NYU on a full ride as well."

You turn to Yugyeom, who's bashfully scratching his head as well. "Really? That's great, Gyeomie! Why didn't you tell us?" Jeonghan smiles at the much taller boy.

"I didn't want to go to a college where I knew no one, so I was waiting to see where you guys would go." This isn't unusual. Yugyeom does love his friends and is a bit shy, even if he's a grade above you all. He is the youngest, but he's in the same classes as Jae.

"Well, then we'd be graduating at the same time." You elbow the much taller boy, and he gives you a grin.

"Yeah, I guess we will."

"Now, let's go get food! I'm starving," Jennie proclaims, and your growling stomach agrees. Your group of friends all head off, and your thoughts about being overprotective are pushed away. That is, until lunch.

Contrary to his words, Seokjin and Sandeul do sit at your table. You can only assume Sandeul convinced him to still go since Seokjin is still grumpily sitting slightly to the side while Sandeul is chatting with your friends. Younghyun and Yugyeom let you sit in between them, as they are the only ones who know what happened, but you're still staying quiet.

You think Jeonghan suspects what happened. Guests have always made an appearance at your table, and you've never stayed quiet like you are now. Even when Jongin, the prom king runner up, sat at your usual lunch table, and you still made conversation. "So, (Y/N), what college are you planning on going to?" Sandeul is the first of the two visitors to talk to you.

"I'm going to NYU. How about you?" You answer hesitantly. Sandeul grins.

"That's great! Both me and Seokjin don't know where we're going." You offer a half-smile at that.

"I'm sure you guys will figure it out." Sandeul laughs.

"Well, I sure hope so. Do you know what you're going to study?" You shake your head.

"Not really? I'm stuck in between two majors, either business or law." Sandeul is actually really friendly. You wish you talked to him more.

"Those are good occupations. Hopefully, you can achieve what you want and enjoy it as well." You nod at Sandeul, in quiet thanks.

"The same goes for you." The quick conversation is enough to remind you to act like a normal human being and converse with people. You get back into your groove, and Jeonghan's worries are put on pause. "So, what do you think of Ms. Sunmi's substitute for today?"

The conversations at your tables resume, and the world is at peace for now. When Jaehyung eats a crabcake that Jennie let him try, his throat closes. He jolts up from his seat to rummage through his bag and pulls an EpiPen out of his backpack. With a steady hand, he uses it on his thigh. "I'm allergic to crab, and I forgot to take my medication beforehand." You tsk at him.

"How do you forget that? Come on, I'll take you to the nurse." Jae stands, and you accompany him through the halls. Seokjin follows quietly, and you shake off the uncomfortable feeling, focusing on your friend first.

The nurse's office wasn't far, and when you explained what happened, she took over. She also gave you and Seokjin a pass for the next class, and you guys had an unexpected free period. You headed straight towards the library, hoping Seokjin wouldn't follow you, but he did.

"Hey, um, (Y/N)?" he calls your name, and you try your best to ignore him. He grabs your wrist and spins you to turn to face him. "I'm sorry."

You roll your eyes, turning away from him. "It's fine. Sandeul must be wondering where you are. Why don't you go find him?" Seokjin gapes after you as you hurry down the hall again. He doesn't follow you.

You spend the rest of your free period in the library, and you go through the rest of the classes alone. With your final period being a free period, you head to the principal's office. When you enter the office, the secretary takes a quick glance at you before returning to her computer. "Mr. Lee is in a meeting, but he will be available in five minutes. Is it okay if you wait?" You nod, before realizing she's looking at her computer and voice your agreement.

"Are you playing minesweeper again, Ms. Hyuna?" Hyuna glances up, popping the gum in her mouth once before smiling and nodding.

"Yeah. This level sucks."

"Can I help?" you ask, and Hyuna nods, scootching over to make room for you. As you two discuss the strategies (apparently there are strategies according to Hyuna), the door to the principal's office opens and out walks Sandeul.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" You glance up at him.

"Oh, I'm just here to see Mr. Lee." And see Mr. Lee, you did. He said you were able to graduate early at the end of the year, or you could graduate in the middle of the year with no fanfare. You decided to do it. With a quick goodbye, you left the office. You also passed by Hyuna to tell her not to click on the square with the mine.

Jeonghan had already gone home without you, as you texted him to let you know where you were, but someone else was waiting for you. "What are you doing?" you ask when you see Seokjin standing near the door to the principal's office.

"I'm walking you home since you stayed late." You roll your eyes.

"I'm not a child. I can walk home by myself."

Seokjin rolls his eyes as well. "Don't be stupid. I know you're not a child, but you did kind of run away from me when I was talking to you."

"I don't need your apologies," you say and walk past Seokjin. His legs are long, though, so he catches up to you. "What do you want?"

"I want to know why you don't like me. We've been neighbors for however long, but I don't know why you don't like me." You decide not to answer this question. It's not that you don't know why you don't like him.

He's loud. He throws parties on weekdays when you're trying to sleep. Sure, the first few times you let it slide since he didn't know you had a test, but it kept happening. Even after you asked him to keep it down. Your sleep schedule was fucked because of him. And that's not the only thing. When the police came to question him about his friend's actions once, he denied everything.

You're sure at least something must have been right, which means he must have lied at least once. Now, it's not good to judge someone, but you must say, you don't want to risk anything. "Are you going to answer my question?" Seokjin sighs impatiently.

"Ah, I don't hate you." You answered too fast. Seokjin raises a disbelieving eyebrow. "I just don't think you and I would get along."

"Why?" This man is stubborn.

"We don't see eye to eye on some things." That's your best excuse, and you can tell Seokjin doesn't believe it.

"Is this because of my friends' reputation and your love for yours?" You scoff. That was rude. "Don't give me that look. I know that look well. If you're so scared for your own reputation, then don't hang out with us. And don't invite us to lunch. It's an easy solution."

You glare at him. "It's not because of that." It is a little, but you're not telling him that. "And I wasn't trying to pity you, Seokjin. It's not entirely my fault that we don't hang out."

It's Seokjin's turn to roll his eyes. "How so? I don't seem to recall avoiding you every time you try to talk to me."

"But I do recall when you embarrassed me at the middle school assembly." Seokjin chokes.

"That was in middle school. This is high school now, so it shouldn't affect you." You feel your temper rising.

"People still call me stupid, sometimes," you hiss at him. "I still get notes asking whether my mom really was a criminal mastermind. But it's high school. It shouldn't affect me. So why does it still affect me?" Seokjin gapes at you.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize again. Anyways, if you're so annoyed by my indifference towards you, you don't need to worry anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm graduating a year and a half early. I'll be out of your hair. That'll make you happy." Seokjin just stands there, and you turn to walk away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go home. I need to talk to my aunt."

"Which one? The shoplifter?" You clench your fists. Seokjin was only worrying about you, he didn't mean to jab at your family, but you didn't know that.

"No. Unlike you, Seokjin, some of my family actually cares about me. Maybe you should take a look at yours and see if you can say the same."

Seokjin's really mad now. "Oh, last I checked, your mother and father leaving you really seems like they care about you."

You stop, turn around and stare at him with glassy eyes. "Fuck you, Kim Seokjin." Before you can apologize, you run. He figures it'll be best not to go after you.

———

"I can't believe you're leaving already," Jennie whines as she gives you a hug. "I thought you'd be graduating at the end of the year, along with Jae and Yugyeom."

You smile at her. "Don't worry. You'll be joining me in just a year." Jennie sighs again.

"You said Younghyun. You never say Younghyun. You're sad too. You know it won't be the same. You'll be an entire year above us, and then you won't hang out with us as much. You might as well become best friends with Jae and Yugyeom instead of Jeonghan."

"What's this about replacing me as your best friend?" When did Jeonghan get here? He scared you and Jennie, as the two of your jump.

"Yeah, I might do it if you keep on scaring me," you threaten.

"Sure, you will. Come on, all the other guys are waiting." Jeonghan says with a short laugh. "I think Yugyeom might cry. Also, Jae bought a pizza and some fried chicken, so if you don't hurry, Younghyun may eat it all."

You glare at nothing in particular, racing outside. "Brian, if you touch that chicken, I'll kill you." Younghyun gently places down the chicken before going for the pizza.

"I wasn't touching the chicken, what are you talking about?" You laugh at his feigned innocence. Before you know it, you're crying while you laugh. Yugyeom starts crying too as soon as he hears the first sob, and everyone else rushes to try and calm you two down. Jeonghan is quick to envelop you into a hug, with Jae following quickly. Jennie and Younhyun pat Yugyeom's back. He was hard to calm down, and if you had the chance to, you would've hiccupped out a sorry.

"I don't even know why I'm crying," you sob into Jeonghan's hug. "Why's Yugyeom crying too?"

"He's crying because you're crying." This just makes you cry harder.

"I'm going to miss you guys." You choke out.

"What? Yugyeomie's going with you." Jae says, confused, and you laugh at him tearily.

"Yeah, but it'll take a while before we can all be united again. Aren't you going to the Cali State University with Younghyun? Jeonghan is going abroad to the University of Paris, and Yugyeom won't join me until next year. Jennie has two years to go too." Jae sighs, and offers you a tissue. He always carries a pack of them around because of his allergies.

"Don't worry. You'll have Yugyeom. And you'll make more friends! When you go to NYU, go find someone called Oh Sehun. You didn't hear it from me, but he's a good guy. He'll be a good friend."

You sniffle a little. Your tears are almost gone now. "Thanks, Jae."

As you dry your tears and help Jennie and Younghyun calm Yugyeom down, you can hear someone approach. You pay no mind, thinking it must be your aunt. "(Y/N) can we talk?" You look up and see Seokjin standing in front of you.

"I...sure. Just make it quick. Yugyeom and I have to hit the road soon." It's your last day here. You don't want to be mean.

"I just wanted to say sorry. What I said was rude." You sigh and nod.

"I can't accept your apology. And I don't think I'll ever forgive you," you say coldly. Seokjin nods miserably.

"I figured as much. Thank you. I wish you the best" You nod stiffly at him. Honestly, you don't want to talk to him. At all.

"Yeah." Seokjin leaves after getting the hint, and you sigh. "I really do have to go now." Yugyeom sobs harder. After more tears and goodbyes, you finally get in your car. It's time to go. You shoot a quick glance across the street to Seokjin's house, and you see him arguing with his mother. You quickly turn away and start your car engine. You're not going to worry about such stuff. Now's a new chapter.

[rogersbabyyy]

enemies with benefits, part 2 | roger taylor

summary: Your ‘arrangement’ with Roger (that was born from an unexpected fuck at Freddie’s party) has been working out just fine. But as the insults start to fade, the kisses becoming increasingly tender, you find that you like the man a whole lot more than you’d like to admit.

word count: 4.4k+

warnings/tags: smut (unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it) A LOT OF ANGST, fluff!!!!!, foul language

a/n- THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT! enemies part 2 is here! i hope it lives up to your expectations ahhhhHHH im sister scared. i finished writing this listening to elvis ballads and jeff buckley and i feel all lovie and my uwus are ready to be snatched. i’m not entirely happy with this, but then again i never am with anything. i also welcome feedback with open arms so please don’t be afraid to tell me what you think xox

read part 1 here if you haven’t already!

Two months later.

“Y/N,” Roger’s voice and a gentle nudge on your bare shoulder awoke you from your slumber. “Y/N.”

You shifted slightly in bed, subconsciously tugging at the silk sheets that adorned Roger’s bed to cover your naked chest, rolling on your side and feeling a dull ache between your legs. A soft grunt left your throat as confirmation that you’d heard him, and you heard him leave your side.

Opening your eyes ever so slightly, the black spiderwebs of your eyelashes filtered the London sunlight that poured through the open windows in Roger’s bedroom: a rare occurrence in the Autumn months. You caught a glimpse of Roger jumping up and down, trying to pull the skinny jeans that you threw to the floor last night over his legs. Stifling a chuckle, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s so funny?” He grunted, a final bounce allowing the denim to slip up to his hips, his fingers nimbly fiddling with the zip of his fly.

“You look like an idiot.” Your voice was hoarse, presumably from yesterday, your memory of which was still somewhat hazy.

“Mhm, you weren’t saying that last night.” He leant over the queen size bed to kiss your temple, his voice climbing an octave or two as he launched into a rather unfortunate and somewhat unforgiving impression of yourself, “Oh, Roger, baby, fuck you feel so good! Your cock is so big-”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, and I never said your cock was bi-”

“Don’t start!” His breath tickled the wisps of your hair that framed your face as he laughed.

“Where are you going, anyway?”

“Thanks to your insistence that I fuck you twice last night, I bloody well slept in, didn’t I? M’late for the studio again, Fred’s gonna have a field day.” Roger’s voice was muffled as he tugged a t-shirt over his head, before peering in the mirror and ruffling his hair as an attempt to look somewhat presentable.

“Can you lock up for me after you leave?” He looked at you expectantly, a keyring dangling from his fingertip. And you hesitated. The simple request made your pulse flutter; that was something men asked of their partners, as they were leaving for work, as casual and unconcerned as asking them to pick up milk or eggs if they got a chance during the day. Whatever this thing you had going on with Roger was, it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Yet, the two of you found yourselves becoming increasingly comfortable with each other, insults fading to gentle teasing, along with moments where you’d feel his gaze on you when you weren’t looking. Freddie had picked up on the change, giving you a knowing smile when Roger brought you a cup of tea without you having to ask, or when you’d rewrite his lyrics in your spare time to save his bandmates the struggle of deciphering his unintelligible handwriting. Thankfully, Freddie carefully chose not to mention it, but it worried you that after two months of this whole ‘enemies with benefits’ thing, Brian had begun shooting you strange glances.

Brian was, perhaps, your closest friend. You’d desperately wanted to tell him what happened between yourself and Roger since you’d fucked in Freddie’s bathroom at that damn party, but you couldn’t. Roger was like his brother. It felt like you’d betrayed his trust somehow, hiding the dirty secret that was Roger Taylor.

The subconscious nodding of your head was enough to rescue your brain from the spiral it has descended into. “Sure. I’ll come by the studio later and drop the keys off.”

“Thanks, love, but make sure Brian and everyone doesn’t see, alright? Don’t want them asking questions.” He grinned at you, tossing the keys onto the foot of the bed, and you forced a quick laugh in response.

What if you wanted them all to know?

-

Later that day, you were sat in your parked car outside the recording studio, a take away cup of coffee cradled between your hands. You blew the steam rising from the cup, watching it curl before evaporating into the air; and then returning your blank stare to the dashboard. Your denial of having feelings for Roger had left you miserable, and the thought of having to come to terms with it all was frightening, to say the least. With a sigh, you patted down the pockets on your trousers to make sure his bloody keys were there, before unlocking the car door to make your way to the studio.

You pushed the door to the control room open carefully, so as not to make any noise in case they were recording. Roger’s keys were concealed in your first, and you intended to slip them into his palm or on a nearby table when everyone’s attention was required elsewhere. That was the intention, before you saw Roger’s arm around a lovely brunette, who was giggling into his chest. Roger himself snickered around the cigarette balanced between his lips, devouring the girl with his eyes and making no attempt to hide it.

You only realised you’d forgotten to breathe when you suddenly felt inexplicably dizzy, his keys slipping from your sweaty palm and clattering to the ground, catching his attention.

“Y/N!” His grin faded and he rose from the couch, stubbing out his cigarette in the process,  “Are you alright? You’re as pale as a ghost.”

This caught Brian’s attention, who was alerted to your presence as Roger expressed his concern.

“S’just vertigo,” you shook your head once to steady yourself, then leant down to swoop up the metal in one hand. “Here’s your keys.” Your breath caught in your throat as Brian shot you a confused glance. “Um, you should really stop leaving them lying around, Miami told me you left them in his office… yeah. Anyway. I think I left the iron on, so I better get going.”

“You just got here, stay for tea, at least.” Deaky chimed in, his eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Really, Deaky, I should go. You guys look busy, anyway.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.” The quip came from Roger, and his words stung you a lot more than you’d have liked to admit. The smile on his lips died quickly as he saw the hurt expression on your face, and you pulled the door open, leaving the studio without another word.

Brian’s voice filtering from inside the room was the last thing you heard before your sobs overtook your senses.

“What the fuck is going on between you two?”

-

What you and he had, it wasn’t monogamous or exclusive. You’d both agreed on the fact early on, giving explicit permission to each other to see other people. He shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, mean anything to you. Above all, you hated that you’d forgotten how to hate him. You bit your lip against a fresh wave of tears and wiped your nose with on sleeve, chin resting on your knee (you’d been perched on the couch all evening, feeling sorry for yourself).

Three quick raps at the door was enough to pull you out of your self-lamenting melancholy trance. You immediately knew it was Roger, and as much as you wanted to ignore him, you couldn’t. You spent a precious moment deliberating this, when a further three knocks prompted you to open the door against your better judgement.

“What happened back there?” He demanded as soon as the door swung open, a hand perched on his hip. “Could you have made it more obvious? Not to mention you looked like you were about to pass clean out, are you okay? Jesus Christ.”

“I’m fine, Roger. Sorry about the keys. Just… Now’s not a good time, alright?” You looked at the floor to hide your face, cheeks most likely streaked with the day’s coat of mascara. Attempting to swing the door shut, Roger’s foot halted it’s motion; and you had no choice but to let him finish.

“Hey… hey.” His voice was soft, earnest, sincere, as he ducked his head to try and get you to look him in the eye. “Have I done something wrong?”

“I just feel so fucking stupid, Roger. I don’t know what I expected, I… I just want some time alone. I think this thing, whatever we had going on, was a mistake.”

“Was it that girl?”

You paused, debating on whether or not to tell the truth. “I never presumed you to only be with me, that’s unfair.” Breathe in, and out.

“I’ve just realised that I like you a lot more than I’d care to admit.” It came out as a whisper, and you were unsure if he’d heard you from the silence that followed your statement; until his fingertips brushed underneath your chin gently to raise your head to meet his eyes. You were surprised to see he was smiling, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You’re an idiot,” it came out in a breathless laugh, “you’re an idiot, Y/N. That girl, all the others, I don’t want them. They’re groupies, they’re so easy and they’re nothing compared to you. S’my vice, and it’s fucked up. I get with other women when I don’t want to think about you.”

“Rog,” you blinked, reaching up to grasp his wrist. “If you’re fucking me around-”

“No. No. Not you. S’why I didn’t want this to be serious. If I ever hurt you,” he swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “I’d have to let you go.”

You inhaled sharply as your eyes searched his despairingly.

“I’ve fucked up every relationship I’ve ever been in, you know that. I’ve cheated on girls, Y/N.” His voice shook and he looked at the ground, his hand residing in his back pocket. He frowned and shook his head, “I can’t be with you.”

“I want you.”

“Don’t, just don’t-”

“I’m in love with you.” In truth, you didn’t realise you were in love with Roger until those words left your mouth in a last ditch attempt to make him stay. The confession cut him off abruptly, and his face crumpled. “I’m in love with you.” You repeated it again, trying to make the words sound right in your voice, because you hadn’t prepared for this.

His trembling hand reached up to gently cradle your face, his fingertips tracing soft lines over your skin. “Silly, silly girl.” A shaky smile tugged at his lips as he leant down to let his lips barely connect with yours, ever so delicately, the touch of a fairy.

“I was fucked ever since that bloody night in the bathroom,” His lips were still touching yours as he whispered, “And because I’m a selfish piece of shit, I love you too.”

“You should probably come in,” was the only thing you found yourself capable of saying, blinking against the sudden pricking of tears that threatened to escape.

He laughed softly, slowly standing up to his full height as tugged his jacket closer to his body against a sudden rush of wind.

“Thanks, m’freezing my balls off out here.”

You opened the door wider to allow him to pass through beside you, before shutting it with a soft click. Seeing him standing sheepishly in the hallway of your modest home was always enough to make you laugh, even tonight. With his leather jacket and aviators dangling from his neck of his shirt, he looked the part of a proper rockstar, and here he was. Surrounded by photos of you cradled in your mother’s arms as a baby, and baskets of laundry that you’d been meaning to sort out for a week.

You approached him shyly, arms crossing over the dressing gown that adorned your body.

“Scared of me?” He frowned, reaching a hand out to you to pull you into his body.

“Not you. Never you.” Your arms wrapped around his sturdy, comforting torso, cheek against his chest. He returned the gesture, as he buried his nose in your hair, arms circling your waist.

“Of getting hurt, then?” He rocked you slowly from side to side, his voice cracking barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

His fingers traced your jaw to prompt you to look up at him. He was even prettier from up close, you thought. Your nose almost touching his, you could see the tiny sun spots that were scattered on his cheeks, the stray eyebrow hairs that you constantly itched to pluck. Paired with his unparalleled mind that you’d had the privilege to see in action more times than you could count, he was a breathtaking man.

“It’s going to be alright, ‘ve got you. Mine.”

“Is this a bad idea?” You turned your head to whisper into his neck, and his hand squeezed your arm gently.

“Yes, s’what I’ve been trying to tell you. We’re too alike, you and I. Haven’t you noticed?” He pulled back. “Stubborn. Proud. Determined. Quick tempered, pretentious... I could go on, love.”

You suppressed a smile as he paused, deep in thought.

“But we’ll never know if we don’t give this a go. I love you. I love you, alright?” His hands rested on your arms firmly as he spoke into your eyes,

“Who would’ve thought,” your voice became softer as he drew closer to you, “Us. Together.”

“Fred’s gonna lose his shit.” And he kissed you properly for the first time since he’d told you he loved you, different from the frantic kisses after a studio session with the constant fear that someone was going to walk in, different from the sloppy kisses with alcohol on your breath on Roger’s leather couch. This was almost painfully slow, his tongue gliding beside yours, his arms fully enveloping your body to pull you into him.

“Bedroom?” You murmured, as his fingers swiftly began undoing the first button of your blouse.

“Mhm, you read my mind.”

-

You weren’t prepared for this side of Roger. During sex, he could be almost politely emotionally detached, always determined to show his dominant side with a hand around your throat or letting a string of his saliva drip into your mouth. You weren’t expecting the gentle kisses that laced your collarbones, nor how his fingertips fluttered over the sides of your hips.

“This is different,” you murmured, eyes closed as his tongue glided over a particularly nice spot on your neck.

“Never made love to you properly, s’always so rushed,” he sighed. “Let me take my time with you, believe I owe you one anyway.”

“If anything, I owe you, been so awful…” you trailed off while Roger’s lips continued to travel the length of your body

“Oh, don’t start getting soft on me, lovie.” He laughed, his breath tickling your stomach as he trailed gentle kisses down toward your thighs. “Just ‘cos we’re together now, don’t change, alright?”

Together. If you’d heard those words out of his mouth two months ago, or even heard him merely suggest the notion, you’d have decked him right in the face. Funny how things change.

Your hand easily found its way to tug at his hair as he nicked the soft flesh of the inside of your thigh. “Stop teasing!”

“Sorry, angel… ready for me, yeah?”

You nodded, almost timidly, feeling a strange wave of shyness overcome you as Roger glanced up at you with an eager, desirous look in his eyes. He’d been between your legs many times before, but you were never in love with him. Making love and fucking were two very different experiences, as Roger would agree. Not to mention, you’d never been with a man so utterly skilled and eager to please you

“Nervous? Never thought I’d see the day where you’d finally become starstruck.”

“Shush. Just…” You took a moment to admire how truly lovely he was, his lips a tantalizing shade of pink, his chin gleaming with your wetness as a soft smile played at his doe-like eyes. “I love you.”

His smile transformed into an almost childlike grin, which he, almost bashfully, attempted to hide by pressing a kiss to the top of your pubic bone.

“Love you.”

A soft squeal escaped your throat as Roger took you by surprise, eagerly pressing a slow French kiss to your core. His eyes were shut as he licked a few slow, careful strips over your entrance, his button nose nudging your clit just right. An explicit moan elicited from your lips, prompting him to delve further into your wetness.

His tongue entered you and flicked tongue swiftly against your walls, as he slid a single finger in with it. The pleasure this elicited was sensational, and you let him know, whining obscenities intertwined with his name.

You were squirming underneath his skillful tongue, your thighs convulsing as you gripped his hair desperately, and when he added a second finger, you knew you were done for.

“I’m so close, oh my God-”

He hummed softly against you, his free arm hooking around one thigh so he could press his mouth as close as possible to your clit, nicking the bundle of nerves ever so slightly with his teeth before easing the sharp pain (that was just the right amount) with his tongue.

Choked moans left your lips as your back arched, his skilled mouth leaving you unable to even speak.

“Say my name. Say m’name, lovie, wanna hear you…”

“Roger...Roger, R-Rog-”

His name left your lips in a tumble, like a prayer, your chest heaving as you pressed your pelvis toward his impeccable mouth. Your orgasm washed throughout your blood like a wave, to the point where tiny silver stars interrupted your vision. Clenching your thighs around his head to keep him in place, you shook violent against his very touch.

His tongue didn’t stop, not even as you finished, and you cursed, tears from the overstimulation stinging your eyes, as you tugged at his hair to pull him away.

“Too sensitive, too much, Rog!” You whined, and he finally pulled away with a satisfying pop, his chin glistening with your wetness. His brows turned inward, looking concerned as he saw a tear track its way down your cheek.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I? Oh, love.”

You shook your head, shakily propping yourself up on a couple of pillows so you were able to grip the back of his head and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. A soft whimper left his throat as he rose from his knees to meet the kiss

A sort of empty feeling had arose in your pelvis, along with which came an insatiable thirst to have him inside you. It almost made you upset, something which only added to your post orgasmic hazy tears. You just needed him.

“Felt so good,” you sniffed, “So good.”

“Why’re you crying, then?” He asked, delicately stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers.

Shaking your head again, you fumbled for the bulge in his trousers, evidently straining against the restriction of the fabric.

“Jus’ want you,” you murmured, “Let me.”

“Nope.” He caught your wrist, smiling against your skin. “Tonight’s ‘bout you, angel, remember?”

“Rog,” you whimpered, “Want you-”

“You’ve got me, love-”

“No, no. Want you. All of you.”

You looked upward, desperately searching his baby blue eyes as you intertwined your fingers with his. He looked taken aback, something that was utterly unusual for Roger.

“You mean without-?”

“Yes.” You sighed, squeezing his hand. You’d never done it, had sex, that is, without protection. Roger was, of course, privy to the fact that you’d had limited sexual encounters before him, and they hadn’t exactly been fantastic. But a sudden urge had overwhelmed you to feel him, and all of him, now.

“What if-”

“It’ll be okay.”

“If you’re positive, love.” His eyes softened as he kissed your hand, his mouth lingering as he awaited your response.

“Never been so sure in my life. I love you, Roger.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” His lips found yours once more, the kiss becoming messy and passionate as he pushed you onto your back. You giggled at the sudden movement, legs circling his waist as you found yourself underneath him once again.

You reached down to his belt, and this time, he didn’t stop you. You unbuckled the leather in a practiced motion and easily slid it through the loops of his jeans, throwing it with a clang to the floor beneath the bed.

“Careful, s’was expensive.” He grinned, his fingers already tugging at his fly.

“S’pose you haven’t got any money from all those best selling albums, then? Twat.”

“Watch your mouth, darlin’, don’t make me tease you…”

“You wouldn’t.”

He paused, making a show of considering your statement.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. Not when I want you this badly.” His words dissolved into a playful snarl as he placed a wet kiss on your neck, simultaneously shrugging off the denim that hugged his thighs.

The aching, empty feeling in your pelvis returned, and you whined.

“Need you. Need you, now…”

He silenced you with a quick peck as he removed his boxers, his cock slapping his tummy, the head a pale shade of scarlet with droplets of precum leaking from the tip. It looked almost painful, and yet he took particular care to maintain a calm manner

“Shh, shh. I’ve got you, yeah? Got all the time in the world. Wanna make this special for you.”

“It’s already perfect.”

His cock nudged your entrance unintentionally as he re-positioned himself closer to you, and you hissed, a noise which he silenced with a soft kiss.

“M’not gonna last long.” You whispered, your forehead pressing against his.

“Oh, neither am I, can tell you that right now. Not when I’ve got the most lovely girl,” he brushed away strands of hair clinging to your temples, “in all of London, perhaps even the world,” he grinned, “underneath me.”

You laughed breathlessly, shaking your head at his words.

“Be quiet, silly boy.”

“Apologies, m’lady.” He smile softened as he gazed at you lovingly. “This is going to feel different, alright? Better… a lot better, actually, but jus’ prepare yourself, alright? Don’t want t’give you a shock.”

Roger gripped the base of his cock and gently pushed past your folds, and you immediately shuddered, your eyes rolling back in your head. Having his skin against yours so much more intimate than you could have ever imagined, especially being able to feel every imperfection and bump. Condoms could sometimes leave you rubbed raw, especially at the speed Roger tended to achieve, but everything was already so much smoother and utterly perfect. The both of you fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, he wasn’t too big, you weren’t too tight. Perfect.

“Alright?” He murmured, sighing into your neck. “You’re so warm, fuck, feels s’good…”

“Can feel everything,” you breathed, nails digging into Roger’s back as he continued to slide further into your warmth.

“Me too, angel, Christ-” His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, and you yourself gazed at him lazily through your lashes, drunk on lust and love and all the feelings that you had for the man.

“I’m so in love with you.” He whimpered, supporting his weight on one arm as his free hand cradled your cheek. “M’ so in love. Don’t deserve you.”

“Stop saying that, Roger.” You whispered, both of you inhaling sharply as your walls briefly spasmed around his cock. “We deserve each other. You’ve got me forever if you want me.”

He smiled, pulling out halfway before slowly bringing his hips back to meet yours. “I’ll always want you.”

You tilted your chin up to kiss him as he thrusted into you once more, as your fingers, seemingly having a mind of their own, found your throbbing clit, desperate for more friction.

“Nope,” Roger gasped, brushing your hand away to replace it with his own, something you were grateful for; his touch was forever superior to your own. He nimbly rubbed against the bundle of nerves, applying just the right amount of pressure that you whining and bucking your hips to meet his touch.

“Roger, oh my-”

His speed increased in a perfectly timed crescendo; his incredible in-built sense of rhythm always left you astonished, both in the bedroom, and in the studio.

“Fuck, baby, feels so… s’good, s’good…” you gripped his shoulders desperately as he rocked against you, biting into his shoulder in an attempt to quieten your moans.

Roger transferred his weight onto his elbows, so his forehead was against yours, the new angle allowing the head of his cock to nudge a soft spot inside you that caused you to cry out.

“Tha’s the spot, yeah?”

You nodded frantically in response, not trusting your voice. Craning your neck, you watched him sliding in and out of you, the slick, heavenly, wet sounds of skin on skin only pushing you closer to the edge. The sensation of him, bare inside you, was almost, almost, simply too much to bear. Even Roger, a man who you’d once called a whore, was seemingly overwhelmed, his face contorted with pleasure as his grinded his hips against yours.

“M’gonna… cum…” he grunted, his lips parting as he moaned your name desperately, burying his head in your neck. “Where’d you wan’ it?” His words became slurred, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he began to lose himself to the wave of euphoria he was about to experience.

“Stomach,” You gasped in response.

Roger quickly, yet gently, pulled out of you, your sheer amount of wetness making it an easy task. He fisted his cock furiously, pumping his length, as he threw his head back, and it was his turn to chant your name.

“Y/N, fuck me, love, m’coming… oh!” Expeditious white, hot ribbons of cum shot onto your pelvis as he growled, strands of his tousled blonde hair clinging to his forehead. “Fuck, fuck!”

You furiously rubbed tight circles over your clit at the sight of him coming undone, and came again yourself, your orgasm creeping up on you without much warning. But, soon enough, you found your muscles seizing, eyes fluttering, your entire body feeling like it was on fire; in the best way.

Roger collapsed on top of you just as you finished, fighting to catch his breath.

“Gonna get cum on you,” you breathed, referring to the mess he’d made on your belly.

“Don’t care,” he panted, pressing light, butterfly kisses over the span of your chest and collarbones. “Beautiful, beautiful lady, n’all mine, too.”

“All yours.” You smiled, kissing his cheek and taking his hand in yours.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that. Almost didn’t think it was gonna happen.”