#too many men arguing that if a woman has an affair she deserves to be raped and/or murdered

[cassowariess]

It's bad enough what Gisèle Pélicot had to endure for decades, but to also then have the perpetuators and their lawyers argue: 'she had an affair so it made the husband suicidal?' And the fact that i keep seeing people argue the same shit on social media? As if the affair is somehow equal to decades of sexual assault???

Hell isn't good enough for those men.

[icedsodapop]

What makes this book an uncomfortable, if distant, cousin of GamerGate and men's rights activist logic is that it, too, relies on a series of false equivalencies and muddy distinctions in order to elevate being shamed on social media to epic proportions. These sorts of distortions are dangerous because they minimize — and even threaten to erase — far more systematic and serious problems that have taken years to even reach the public consciousness.

(...)

That all of these episodes might share something is plausible, maybe even likely, and they all involve some degree of real suffering — certainly, being publicly shamed on Twitter or elsewhere on the internet has very real ramifications — but they are not equivalent to one another. Being shamed doesn’t affect people’s lives equally. Ronson tends to dismiss this, as when Adria Richards, the shamer of Donglegate, suggests to him that the white men she shamed for telling sexist jokes at a tech conference (those with what Ronson calls "supposed white privilege") hold more power than she does, and they and their peers are more likely to call her reaction to sexist dick jokes “overblown.” This, Ronson says, “seemed like a weak gambit,” a “logical fallacy” of the sort deployed “when someone can’t defend a criticism against them,” and “change[s] the subject by attacking the criticizer.”

At the same time, he doesn’t seem to make much of the fact that Richards’ “victim” has remained pseudonymous throughout the affair, while Richards, a black Jewish woman whose identity was public throughout these events, was not only fired from her job as a developer evangelist for Sendgrid, but faced a barrage of vicious, violent harassment, and whose address and other contact information were publicly released on 4chan and elsewhere. His ostensible concern is with the threat of the anonymous crowd, but it’s Richards he calls an “inappropriate shamer,” and Ronson comes dangerously close to saying that she deserved what she got.

The construction of false equivalencies is a major strategy of aggrieved white dudes, like men’s rights activists who argue that men have as much right to refuse paternity as women have to choose abortion, or like video game players who claim that critiquing misogyny represents an attack on their marginalized demographic. Ronson’s no 4chan troll, but So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed reads very much like a defense of unfairly victimized white men and privileged white women. This became especially clear yesterday, when writer Meredith Haggerty tweeted a photo of a couple of lines from the book’s uncorrected galleys, which were subsequently cut when Ronson was advised that they sounded especially tone-deaf: “I’d never thought of it that way before—that men feel about getting fired the same way women feel about getting raped ... I can’t think of many things worse than being fired.” Despite the fact that he’d discussed cutting these lines in an interview with The Frisky weeks before, he became the object of a (fairly mild) round of Twitter meta-shaming. Ronson is right, of course, that it’s a bit unfair to criticize him for something that wasn’t in the published book, but the comparison is telling (and not only because it defines women’s social roles as primarily sexual and men’s as economic).

This review really highlighted by main problems with Jon Ronson and his anti cancel culture argument. He is, in my opinion, the Buckley of both-sides centrism, a White male figure who positions himself as an intellectual voice on the topic. It's telling that he's never bothered to investigate the topic of online harassment and it's intersections with gender, race and class.

[honeypiehotchner]

illicit affairs (Spencer Reid one-shot)

This is wayyy overdue! It’s just been sitting in my drafts, waiting for me to edit her, but she’s finally here. This is very loosely based on Taylor Swift’s song of the same title. And it’s 100% me writing out some feelings through fanfiction, so it’s also loosely based on true events. Enjoy!

Summary: You and Spencer have been “dating” without a label for a few months now, until you witness something that has you wondering if it was too good to be true (as always).

Warnings: it’s so dramatic. Angst with a happy ending!

Spencer has no fucking clue what he did.

Well, to be more accurate, Spencer has no idea if he even did anything at all.

One second the two of you were acting as normal as ever, attached at the hip and nothing less, and the next you’re barely able to look at him. You won’t speak to him, you insist you’re fine, and you ask him to leave you alone -- please.

A new case comes and he thinks things will fall back into their rightful place. He expects you to sit with him on the plane, but you choose the farthest seat away from him. He expects you’ll be paired with him when he says he’ll go to the local station to work on victimology, but instead you agree to Morgan’s offer to look at the crime scene.

He’s desperate. He’s a so-called genius, and he’s losing his mind.

“Morgan, help me out here, man,” Spencer pleads, cornering Morgan when he’s getting a coffee. He’s just returned from the crime scene with you, but of course, you’ve ducked away from Spencer.

Derek’s eyebrows raise. Slowly, he turns around, eyeing the desperate genius. “You’re asking for my advice?”

“She won’t talk to me,” Spencer whispers, eyes cutting to you, but only for a second. He doesn’t want you to think he’s creepily staring at you all the time. So far, you haven’t caught him (that he knows of).

“Well, what did you do?” Morgan asks like the answer should be blatantly obvious.

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, let me rephrase that for you,” Morgan’s tone is bordering on teasing, but he can’t help it. The resident genius of the BAU is having trouble talking to a woman. Who knew? “Have you done anything that would lead her to believe you’re not interested in her anymore?”

“What? No!”

“Think, Reid,” Morgan replies, tipping his cup of coffee in the air. “And when you figure it out, apologize.”

He leaves without another word. Morgan joins you and Emily back in the room where the team has set up base. You share a particularly heated look with Morgan, but he shakes his head, letting you know he didn’t betray your confidence. You relax.

Spencer doesn’t know this, but earlier when you were riding with Morgan to the crime scene, you confided in him.

It had been completely accidental. Something about car rides brings out the need to ask for advice. Maybe it’s the fact that there’s the road to focus on, or the case to segway into, you don’t know. But what you do know, is that when you confided in Morgan, he shook his head, and called Spencer a dumbass.

“Hypothetically,” you had begun, and Morgan remembers wondering if you were going to talk about the case, but you didn’t. “If you’ve been talking-- flirting with a guy and going on a few dates over the past few months -- but there’s no label -- but so if you’ve been doing all this and then you suddenly see him outside his apartment hugging another woman -- like arms around her waist kind of deal, face in her neck...what does that mean?”

Morgan had nearly slammed on the brakes. Reid? A two-timer? He never would’ve guessed. The kid could barely get his words out when he first met you, and now he’s playing you?

“Well, hypothetically,” Morgan played into your game. “I’d be suspicious. Personally, I don’t just hug any woman like that if I don’t have other intentions,” he shook his head. What you’re describing is intimate, especially for Reid. “You’re right to think something else is going on.”

“Who said it was about me?”

Morgan looked at you with his usual knowing stare. Sometimes you forget you’re all profilers. You’ve made deals not to profile one another, but you’re sure it still happens. You all have another silence agreement to never voice it aloud, unless needed.

“Fine,” you caved, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t know, I just-- I was going to drop off his stupid jacket that he left in my car the night before, and I saw him hugging her right on his doorstep and she kissed his cheek and I just-- I bolted. I don’t know.” You had let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought he was different.”

“If it helps,” Morgan shrugged, “I’ll kick his ass.” He might protect Reid like a mother hen, but he’s not afraid to give him a hard time, either.

“No, no, don’t,” you groaned. “I’m just gonna keep my distance. No sense in putting effort into something that clearly is never going to happen.”

“Oh, come on, don’t talk like that,” Morgan said. You used to talk that way all the time when you first started at the BAU, but it slowly died out the more you hung out with Spencer. Morgan connected the dots, but never told you.

“You know I’ve never been in a relationship?”

This time, Morgan did slam on the brakes.

“What?”

“Never,” you shook your head, motioning for him to keep driving. “Not one. They all fall through. I started thinking something was wrong with me, you know?” Morgan gave you another look, his sad, big brother one this time. “But then Spencer and I started getting closer, he took me on what I thought, I guess, were a couple of dates. I mean, he paid and drove and walked me to my door and all that cute shit. That’s a date, right? I mean, he never kissed me on the lips, but it’s Spencer.” You didn’t even look to see Morgan’s reaction, but he was nodding. “I started to think maybe it was never me, maybe it was the guys--”

“It was the guys,” Morgan argued. “Alright? You’re amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you. It would be a damn honor. Don’t let that head of yours convince you otherwise.”

You shook your head, the crime scene rapidly approaching. “I’m not so sure anymore.”

You were out of the car and introducing yourself to the police on the scene before Morgan could even blink.

Morgan can only hope Reid had a good reason for having a woman at his door and hugging her, and letting her kiss his cheek. Reid doesn’t give hugs to just anyone, let alone accept a kiss, so whoever it was, obviously she was more than a friend.

The thought of Reid being a player makes Morgan smile. On the one hand, he’s a little bit proud. On the other, he’s pissed. It’s one thing to have one night stands with women who are into that sort of thing, but it’s another to drag someone along -- someone like you, someone who is too good, who deserves better than that.

Morgan had thought about telling you to just talk to Spencer, in hopes that there was a good reason for what you saw, but you’ve made it painfully clear over the past two weeks that you’d rather keep your distance instead.

So, he lets you. He can’t say that he blames you, really. Not after what you told him. He can only hope Spencer will figure this one out before it’s too late.

+++

After the case is closed and you’re back home, you immediately head for the shower. Cases are exhausting enough, but avoiding Spencer made it worse. Going from being attached at the hip to trying to be anywhere except in the same room as him took a toll on you. Not to mention, dodging everyone else’s worried looks. Morgan is the only one you’ve confided in, but that hasn’t stopped Hotch, Emily, JJ, and even Garcia from constantly asking if you’re alright.

Once you’re finished showering and in your pajamas, you head back to the living area. Spencer’s forgotten cardigan lays on the arm of your couch, lonely.

You know you shouldn’t, but you shrug it on anyway. No harm in wearing it. Not like he misses it. He probably has a hundred others.

You head to the kitchen to make yourself some tea, hoping it’ll soothe your nerves and help you drift off to sleep before your mind has the time to make you think of Spencer.

Too late.

Sighing heavily, you place the kettle on the stove. You hum a song while you’re at it, knowing that you’re being endlessly dramatic.

It’s not like you had sex with Spencer. Hell, the most the two of you did was hold hands and you kissed his cheek. He kissed your head once, though you think it was an accident.

Still, there was never a label. Why are you so upset?

Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby/Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

It’s stupid, really, how hung up you are over this. A few dates don’t exactly mean anything at all. Flirting nowadays can mean nothing, too. You don’t understand any of it.

You cup your cheek gently, foolishly wondering what it would feel like if Spencer’s hand was there instead -- maybe even as he kissed you, but you don’t want to get too carried away. It’s not like anything will ever happen now.

And you know damn well/for you I would ruin myself/a million little times

Maybe you just need more time. This was the first time in a long time that you had let your guard down, let yourself go on dates. So many times it had all gone wrong, so you closed yourself off and focused on your career. You thought since you were stable at the BAU that now it was okay.

You thought Spencer -- Spencer Reid, of all people, you really thought he would’ve been different.

Maybe it’s just your type. Maybe that’s who you attract. The men who don’t want anything serious and never will. They’re stuck in Peter Pan mode. You must be Wendy. It must be a curse.

The kettle boils and you cut the burner off, fixing your tea.

You’re just walking back to the living room when there’s a knock on your door. You freeze, your panicked mind expecting the absolute worst, until you hear Spencer’s voice.

“Y/N?” He calls out. “It’s Spencer-- You probably knew that already.”

You smile into your tea, but you make no move for the door. You want-- no, you ache to let him inside, but you know it’s a bad idea. He’s probably here to ask if you’re alright, and you don’t have the energy to answer him. He’s probably going to go back to his girlfriend after this. You really don’t know that you can handle a face-to-face rejection.

“Y/N, please,” Spencer says again, pleading. He knocks once more, quietly. “I see lights are on, so I’m just going to...assume you can hear me.”

You walk a step closer. You don’t want to let him inside, but maybe you can listen. That won’t be too bad, right?

“Y/N, I’m...I’m sorry.”

Oh, tears. Stupid, stupid tears. You wipe them on the sleeve of his cardigan, glad that they’re at least falling quietly right now.

“I don’t know what I did, but I’m...I’m just sorry and I miss you and it’s killing me that you won’t even look at me. I…” Spencer pauses, and you walk closer, biting on the sleeve to keep from letting out a sob. “I’m sorry, I don’t… Please, just tell me what I did.”

You press your back to the door, sliding down until you hit the floor. You keep your knees against your chest and set the mug of tea down next to you. The noise causes Spencer’s ears to perk up.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yeah, Spencer,” you barely speak loud enough for him to hear. “It’s me.”

“Please, tell me what I did,” he pleads, voice breaking. Is he crying, too? “I don’t know what it was, but I’ll fix it. Or I’ll try-- Please, let me try.”

“Spencer…” You sigh, tears falling down your cheeks with no restraint. “Be honest with me, are you seeing someone else?” You pause, choking on a sob. So many times you’ve had this conversation, the rejection, finding out you weren’t the one they wanted. Too many times. But none of them ever hurt this bad. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” Spencer nearly falls over. Why on earth would you think that? “What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Don’t lie to me, please,” you groan, pressing your hand to your forehead. This is pathetic. You shouldn’t be showing him how upset you are. And through a door, no less. Can you get any more dramatic?

“What are you talking about?”

“I was at your apartment, Spencer,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your cheeks. “I went to drop off this stupid cardigan of yours and you-- You were hugging a woman outside your door and I saw it and I saw her kiss you--”

You cut yourself off, choking on another sob, and Spencer sighs. He understands now.

“Open the door. Please,” he says.

“Why?” You reply quietly. “If you’re just going to reject me, please, just do it through the door.” The last thing you want is for him to see you like this when he tells you he’s seeing someone else, that he didn’t even know you liked him, and so on.

“I’m not rejecting you,” he says softly. “Please.”

You know it’s a bad idea, but how much worse can things get?

You stand to your feet and open the door, careful of the mug of tea on the floor. Spencer’s heart drops at the sight of you. Tear stains on your cheeks, red eyes, your quivering lip as you try to hold things together, and...his cardigan hanging off your shoulders. Somehow the last tops it all off, sends a strike of pain right to his heart.

You wipe some more tears away with the sleeve, motioning for him to start talking. “Go on.”

“She’s an old friend. We did kiss before, once. But she’s not my girlfriend. She was in town and wanted to stop by to tell me she’s getting married...to her girlfriend of three years.”

You nod slowly. For some reason, that doesn’t even make you feel better. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Spencer asks, hopeful tone and all. “Are we okay?”

“What are we, Spencer?” You ask, eyes still watering. “I can’t keep going on the way we were going, you know? It’s agonizing, I just want to know what’s going on in your head.”

Spencer smiles softly. “I want you to...to be my girlfriend.”

Your ears are deceiving you. They must be. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I thought it was obvious,” he chuckles. “That’s one of the things I talked to her about -- her name’s Jess. She invited me-- us to the wedding. I was gonna ask you to be my girlfriend-- I still want to, I mean, if you’ll have me.”

More tears spring to your eyes and Spencer’s heart jumps, thinking he did something completely wrong.

“What happened? Did I say something?”

“No,” you shake your head. “God.” You wipe at your cheeks before turning and retreating back into your apartment. Spencer has no choice but to follow you.

He spots your mug of tea and places it on the coffee table as he shuts your front door gently with his foot.

“I’m so...stupid,” you mutter, jumping when you see he’s followed you inside. He’s not unwelcome here by any means, you’re just an idiot. A huge idiot.

“You’re not stupid,” he argues. “I wish you would’ve talked to me.”

“Would you believe me if I told you this has happened to me before?” You murmur pathetically, propping your body against the arm of your couch.

Spencer’s heart breaks more. You won’t look at him again.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, clasping your hands together, fighting the shakes. “I should’ve talked to you, I just-- This has happened before and those times it was… Well, you know.” You finally look up at him, tears falling. “The first time the guy didn’t even try hiding it. The second one did, but not very well because I still found out. The third wasn’t even aware that he was flirting with me, I guess. I don’t know how you can take someone on dates for months and not be aware, but he said he wasn’t.” You pause, looking away again. “I just saw a pattern and I freaked out and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer whispers, even though you still feel like it’s not.

You shake your head.

“Y/N, it is,” he presses on. “I should’ve...talked to you about how I’m feeling, but I was scared. You’re the first girl that’s-- I don’t know, liked me for me, I guess. Dorkiness and all.”

You chuckle, and Spencer nearly grins. He got a laugh. That’s something.

“How about we both make a deal to communicate better?” He offers. You nod, so he keeps going. “I’ll go first. I really want you to be my girlfriend.”

You can’t help but smile now, all dumb and trying to hide it in the sleeve of his cardigan. “I’d really love to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah?” He asks, almost like he wasn’t even expecting you to agree, but you nod, confirming it for his genius brain.

The kiss the two of you share is a long time coming. It’s gentle and warm, relaxing your muscles and easing the tension you’ve held in them for the past two weeks. Spencer gathers you in his arms, keeping you close, with zero intent of ever letting you go.

+++

When you walk into the BAU the next morning, you are painfully reminded that you are surrounded by the best profilers in the country.

It’s no secret that you and Spencer have been “dating” for a while, but you never showed PDA -- partly because the two of you were fumbling around your true feelings, and partly because you’re not too sure how relationships stand with protocol here.

Apparently, despite coming in fifteen minutes apart from one another, everyone can see right through you both.

Morgan is the first to say something. He catches you when the elevator doors open and you have Spencer’s cardigan hanging over your shoulders. In your defense, Spencer forgot to grab it when he left your house sometime this morning, so you were just trying to return it -- again.

“Late night?” Morgan raised his eyebrows.

Realizing your mistake, your eyes widen. “Shut up.” You step off the elevator and point a threatening finger in his face. “Not a word.”

Morgan’s hands raise in surrender, but he still has that goddamn smile on his face. “Might wanna take off that cardigan, sweetheart. You’re too obvious.”

Angrily, you shrug it off and walk into the bullpen.

Spencer is at his desk, so you shove his cardigan into his chest. “You forgot this.”

Upon seeing that it’s you, Spencer’s lips stretch into a grin. “Thanks.” He pauses, folding the cardigan over his arm. “I was kind of hoping you’d keep it,” he whispers, eyes darting around to be sure no one is listening. “It looks better on you, anyway.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek. “Give it to me tonight, then,” you wink, earning a light blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

Hotch watches this encounter from the railing and smiles. He’s sure neither of you will do anything to warrant him giving you a stern talk about relationships and work, so he won’t mention anything for now.

Instead, he retreats back into his office, glad you’ve finally gotten over yourselves.

Garcia catches on when you come to visit her in her office only to find Spencer already standing there. He’s animatedly talking about Doctor Who, but stops abruptly when he sees you. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand the glances, the smiles, and awkward goodbyes that were shared so you could ask Garcia a question.

Prentiss is just glad the two of you will look at one another again, but the way you keep glancing over her shoulder to see Spencer is more than obvious. It’s so obvious that Prentiss and JJ share a knowing look, but say nothing. They should’ve placed bets.

You and Spencer catch each other’s eyes more than a dozen times every hour, and he follows you to the break room to conveniently get a coffee at the same time as you.

Yeah, you’re not being obvious at all.

Neither of you notice that the team has caught on, so you take your chances when you find yourselves alone in the break room. You can practically hear the conversations the rest of the team is having out in the bullpen, so you let Spencer pull you into his arms, his chin resting on top of your head.

This is a lot for Spencer, and you too, if you’re honest. Hugs are something you never found yourself enjoying, but when you’re tucked into Spencer’s chest, you never want to leave.

You’re both too busy holding one another to hear Hotch’s footsteps as he enters the room. The clearing of his throat is what finally breaks the two of you apart.

“Agent Hotchner,” you blurt, straightening yourself and taking one too many steps away from Reid.

Hotch smirks. You haven’t called him that since your first day. “New case. Looks like a short one. Conference room in five minutes.”

And he leaves as quick as he came, chuckling under his breath.

You and Spencer share a look before dissolving into laughter and fixing your coffee. You don’t try to walk out of the break room separately, knowing that there’s no use.

Especially not when you get cold on your way to the conference room, and Spencer promptly wraps you in his cardigan.

[iam93percentstardust]

Fireflies

I wrote a little ironfalcon & sarahbucky fic! Thank you to @warmachinesocks for sensitivity reading it for me, I really appreciate the help!

This fic is also on ao3 but tumblr hates links so no links for you

~

The first thing Bucky sees when he walks through the door of Sarah’s house—Sarah’s house! He gets to stay with Sarah!—is Tony Stark washing the dishes. He stops in the doorway, not sure why he’s so surprised to see Stark there—he’d known that Stark had retired somewhere quiet after the battle with Thanos—but he definitely is. He hesitates, not sure if he can—or should—say something. Sure, he and Tony had talked things out after the battle, cleared the air between them, but he’d assumed that was based on them never having to see each other again.

“It’s rude to lurk in doorways,” Tony says, before he can think of anything to say.

“Uh,” Bucky says intelligently. Then, “What are you doing here?” He winces. His ma would absolutely have something to say about how rude he’s being if she could hear him.

Fortunately, Tony just chuckles and says, “I live here. What are you doing here, Freezer Pop?”

“You live here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Sam says from behind him, startling him enough that he jumps. “Now get out of the way, Barnes. You’re blocking the door.”

Bucky steps inside, clutching his overnight bag in front of him like the shield he hadn’t thought he would need. Sarah and the boys are right behind Sam, and Bucky gives her a shy smile. She smiles back at him before ducking her head, and now that she’s turned away, Bucky looks back at Sam, who has made a beeline straight for Tony.

“Hey sweetheart,” Sam says in the softest voice Bucky has ever heard from him.

Tony leans over to kiss Sam’s cheek. “Hey, honey. How’s the boat?”

“Looking good,” Sarah says. “No thanks to you.” Bucky starts to get a little worried, but Sarah is grinning as she says it and Tony’s expression is one of mock outrage so he relaxes again.

“Excuse you,” Tony says in a faux-offended voice, “I was busy for five years.”

“Yeah, taking care of my boys and being an Avenger, so you’ve said many times. But what, you forgot about my poor boat?”

“Hey, I did offer to help pay for the repairs.”

Sarah’s face softens and she walks over to rub Tony’s metal shoulder, uncovered by the sleeveless shirt he’s wearing. “And that was sweet of you,” she says. “But I could told you I could—”

“—take care of it,” Tony finishes. “Yeah, you said.”

Sam rejoins Bucky by the door and tugs his bag from Bucky’s limp hand. “Come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the living room. “They’re gonna be at it for a while. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

As they’re heading into the living room, Bucky quietly asks, “So how long have you and Stark—”

“Don’t let him hear you call him that,” Sam interrupts. “Just call him Tony, he hates Stark or Mr. Stark or anything else like that. And since 2005. We met working on the EXO-7 project. He was my technician. Got married right after he came back from Afghanistan.”

He remembers Steve telling him about Sam taking the plea deal after the Avengers split. Steve hadn’t been able to understand it, but he thinks about how they’d all understood Clint and Scott taking the same deal for their families and wonders if it was something like that.

“And how did you handle the—uh—”

Sam gives him a flat look. “With a lot of communication and a little bit of make-up sex,” he says. “When you’ve been together as long as we have, that’s something you learn.”

“What, that make-up sex helps?”

“That communication is important. And trust me, it can feel like pulling teeth, trying to get Tony to talk, but it’s worth it.” He plops down on the couch and motions for Bucky to sit down next to him, waiting until Bucky does before he continues, “Speaking of communication, a couple things about Sarah since you’re clearly going to ignore the Bro Code.”

“The Bro Code?”

“Yeah, don’t date sisters of friends, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t think that was a thing in the forties.”

“I’m pretty sure it was.”

“No, I think I’d remember that.”

“Steve didn’t have a sister, why would you remember that? Besides, your memory is as good as swiss cheese, and don’t think I missed you not arguing with me about that friend thing. Anyway, the Bro Code, since you’re ignoring it—”

From where they’re sitting, Bucky can see Sarah in the kitchen, putting away leftovers that someone had brought them while they’d been working. She looks real pretty with the evening sunlight lighting her from behind, making her glow like an angel. Bucky smiles a little, thinking about the way she’d laughed at his horrible jokes.

“Seriously man,” Sam interrupts. “Smitten-with-a-capital-s. Now look, Sarah’s had it rough these last few months. Blipped just like you and me, only she had to come back to a rundown boat and her boys all grown up. Tony did what he could around here, but he was grieving too and he had the duties of being an Avenger on top of taking care of AJ and Cass. He forgot about taking care of the boat and Sarah’s paying for it now. She’s been hurt a lot, so if your intention is something quick and then leaving her just like her husband, it’s not just me you’ll have to answer to. It’s Tony too, and the whole town on top of us. We look out for each other around this area.”

“Yeah, I got that today when the whole town showed up to help out.”

Sam grins and shakes his head, seemingly awed that he and Sarah would inspire enough loyalty for people to come help them. Bucky doesn’t get it. Both Wilson siblings are absolutely incredible. Hell, only a few weeks ago, he himself thought he’d be happy if he never had to deal with Sam ever again and now he’s staying at the man’s family home.

“My point is—” Sam begins.

“Samuel Thomas Wilson, I know you’re not giving that man a shovel talk,” Sarah interjects, coming into the living room, drying her hands on a dish towel. “You’re gonna scare him off, same as you did to all my boyfriends back in high school.”

Sam holds his hands up. “I’m just making sure he knows to treat you right.”

“Believe me, the poor man knows. Besides, I don’t need you to do that. I’m more than capable of making sure he treats me right all by myself.”

Bucky thinks about what that might mean and shivers pleasurably.

“Look at him, you broke the poor guy’s brain,” Tony complains. “AJ and Cass Wilson, can the two of you set the table?”

“Aww Uncle Tony, do we have to?” AJ complains.

“Hmm, how about you set the table or I’ll sell all your toys.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” AJ says, but gets up anyway and joins his brother in the kitchen.

“I might if you keep challenging me,” Tony shoots back, but there’s no heat to his voice and AJ is still grinning as he grabs plates out of the cupboard so Bucky turns back to Sam and Sarah, who have gotten quieter now that they’ve got an audience beyond just him.

“—want to see you taken care of the way you should be,” Sam is saying.

Sarah’s face softens. “Thanks. I don’t need it—”

“—but you should be anyway. After all you’ve done for our family, you deserve it.”

They both glance at Bucky, who smiles quickly to try to assure them that he’s a great option for Sarah. He’d heard some of the things the townspeople were saying about her while they were working on the boat today: she’s an impressive woman and all he wants to do right now is to prove that he’s worthy of her.

“Well,” Sam says eventually. “I guess there are worse people you could go for.”

“Gee, thanks, Sam,” Bucky says flatly.

“No problem, man.” He looks back at Sarah. “Fine, I’ll lay off of him. But the first time he hurts you—”

“—you’ll let me handle it like the grown-up I am?” Sarah finishes firmly, hands on her hips. She seems to decide that the conversation is clearly over because she heads back into the kitchen, swatting Tony away from the sauce on the stovetop with a wooden spoon.

Sam deflates. “Yeah, okay,” he calls after her. “I’ll let you handle it.”

“Hey, I get it,” Bucky offers quietly. “I had sisters too and they hated it when I got involved with their relationships.”

“She deserves the best. And I really hope that you can be the one to give it to her. I saw how she looked at you. I haven’t seen her look like that since high school.” There’s a pensive look in his eyes, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I didn’t realize how much I missed seeing that look.”

“I like her too,” Bucky tries to assure him. “I don’t want to hurt her.” He hesitates, then adds, “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Except maybe Walker.”

Sam laughs. “You and me both.”

“I’ll toast to that,” Tony says cheerfully, coming back into the living room. “Sarah says it’s dinner time.”

Dinner is a loud affair, full of the boys talking about what they’ve been up to with their friends, Sam and Sarah bickering about repairs that need to happen on the boat, Tony and Bucky comparing their prosthetics (Tony’s arm is Stark Tech and he’s curious about how it compares to Bucky’s Wakandan one), and Sam, Tony, and Bucky discussing what’s going to happen with Walker now that the shield’s been taken away from him.

“I don’t think this is over,” Tony says, and Bucky agrees with him, remembering how much more determined Steve had gotten every time an opportunity had been taken away from him, but Sam is less sure.

“He’s grieving. I don’t think he’s in any state to be trying to take the shield back,” Sam argues.

“Grieving men can be unpredictable. You said he didn’t catch Karli, that’s got to be weighing on him,” Tony replies. He eyes the shield in its leather case, leaning up against the wall. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt because he decides the shield is still his. Him with that serum, it concerns me. You don’t have that kind of advantage.”

“I don’t want that kind of advantage,” Sam says, surprising Bucky. He’d known Sam is leery of the serum, not nearly as bad as Zemo but still uncomfortable with it. Tony doesn’t seem surprised though, just nods understandably.

“I know,” he agrees. “But I still worry.”

Bucky interjects, “Hopefully the suit the Wakandans made will help even the playing field some.”

Tony blinks.

“You got a new suit?” Sarah asks.

“And I didn’t make it?” Tony asks.

“I haven’t seen it yet,” Sam says, ��but yes. Bucky asked for a favor after Walker destroyed the old one.”

“Hmph,” Tony says grumpily, softening only when Sam leans over to kiss his cheek. “Well, I guess I can’t blame you. Shuri’s tech is incredible. The things that girl can do with vibranium… blows that shield out of the water.”

“Is she still refusing to let you take a look at T’Challa’s suit?”

“Yes.”

“They’re very protective of it,” Bucky says.

“And I don’t blame them,” Tony says quickly. “It would just be nice.” He glances at Sam pleadingly, who laughs.

“I’m not gonna let you take a look at it either.”

Tony grumbles wordlessly, but doesn’t complain any further, instead turning to Sarah to ask her about something with the boat. Bucky eagerly joins in, interested in hearing more about Sarah’s life. It’s so different from his, even before the war. He wants to learn everything he can, both about the boat and about her.

By the time dinner is over, he’s stuffed, something that rarely happens. The serum means he has a higher metabolism than the average person, which also means that he’s typically hungrier, and when he’d been with HYDRA, they hadn’t worried about making sure their Asset was well-fed. He offers to help the boys clear the dishes, hoping that will impress Sarah. She smiles at him, but heads out to the porch. The sun is setting over the bayou, and Bucky can just barely make her out through the glare from the sun.

He watches her a little wistfully until Tony comes up beside him and passes him two glasses of sweet tea. “What’s this for?” he asks.

Tony jerks his head toward the door. “She likes to watch the fireflies.”

Sam passes him with an armful of plates on his way to the dishwasher. “Better make sure you grab some bug spray. The mosquitoes are vicious at this time of day.”

“I heal fast,” he says confusedly.

“But it’ll show you’re thinking of her,” Sam says as Tony grabs a can from under the sink and slaps it into Bucky’s empty hand. “Go on, we’ve got this.”

“You’re sure?”

Sam and Tony share a wordless glance. Bucky can’t quite tell what they’re thinking. “Yeah,” Sam says after a moment. “Really, man, get out there.”

So Bucky gets.

Sarah glances up at him when he steps out onto the porch, smiles, and then moves aside on the swing for him to join her. “Let me guess, Tony told you to come out,” she says dryly.

“How’d you know?”

“He likes to think of himself as a matchmaker.”

Bucky hesitates in passing her one of the glasses. “Is that a problem?”

She takes the glass out of his hand, deliberately brushing her fingers against his. “Only if you think it is.”

In answer, Bucky hands her the bug spray too. Her smile broadens.

“Thanks,” she says. “You ever watched fireflies before?”

He shakes his head. “We didn’t have them in New York.”

“That’s a shame. They’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

They’re silent for a moment, both sipping from their glasses. Then Sarah says, “You can put your arm around me, you know.”

Bucky glances at her quickly and then slowly puts his arm around her shoulders. She leans into him, warm and perfect and slotting just right beside him. It’s nice, he thinks, and he leans his head on top of hers. She makes a pleased sound and snuggles just a little bit closer. He lets out a long sigh, feeling the tension drain out of him as the first few fireflies twinkle in the gathering dusk.

[torchwood-99]

The Cool Girl Speech and Gwen Bashing

 The Cool Girl monologue from ‘Gone Girl’  is an excellent look at the ‘ideal woman’. The contradictory and impossible standards women should live up to. Not fussing over healthy food and diets but instead likes beer and hotdogs and still has a brilliant figure, who isn’t a ‘prude’ and loves sex (but probably isn’t also a ‘whore’). Doesn’t wear too much makeup or fusses over her hair and clothes because she’s still cool for that, but has flawless airbrushed skin and hair and flattering clothes. 

But most of all, a ‘Cool Girls are above all hot. Hot and understanding. Cool Girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. Go ahead, shit on me, I don’t mind, I’m the Cool Girl.’

This is where Gwen fails terribly. A Cool Girl complements the awesome men in her life, she doesn’t contradict them or make things hard for them. Right from the start, Gwen argues and pushes and takes up space. She makes her thoughts and opinions known, and is ready to be aggressive, forceful and loud. 

She is a ‘strong woman’ but she isn’t a strong woman in that she just spouts cool one liners while following her leader into battle and looking sexy whilst doing so. No, she’s a ‘strong woman ‘whose strength is in her willingness to argue and stand for what she believes in, even against her friends and people superior to her. She’s the wrong sort of ‘strong woman’. She is forceful and assertive, she makes things uncomfortable. She holds them accountable. She cries and screams and stomps her foot. She gives orders and suggestions and takes up so much space. Her troubles and difficulties and victories and journey takes attention away from the men, away from Ianto. Unforgivable.

How many bashers accuse Gwen of being arrogant, of ‘thinking she knows everything’? Who dislike her for coming in and letting the others know that she thinks the way they deal with civilians is flawed? How many Gwen bashing fics that ‘aren’t really Gwen bashing we’re just making Gwen face the consequences of her actions for once’  don’t just have Rhys find out about the affair, but punish Gwen for taking up space and being opinionated, have the team roll their eyes at her and openly consider her annoying and frustrating. Fics that remove the affection and regard the team have for her, in favour of making them resent her forcefulness and presence as much they as they do.

Alongside this, she makes mistakes. She isn’t always cool. Often, she is an emotional mess. She cries and complains and at her lowest, she goes to desperate lengths to find relief for her isolation and alienation. She betrays Rhys, her ‘long suffering boyfriend.’

‘Poor Rhys, he puts up with so much’. Sure, Gwen regularly puts herself into danger in order to protect the Earth. But Rhys is the real hero for ‘putting up with her’. The sacrifices Gwen makes in order to protect the Earth is hand waved away, not nearly enough to make up for having an affair, but Rhys deserves accolades for valiantly enduring her company.

(Now switch the genders around, a vibrant and intelligent young man gets an exciting career opportunity, where he faces danger on a nearly daily basis, losing his personal and social life in order to protect the Earth, only to come home exhausted, emotionally wrecked and occasionally injured to a girlfriend who resents the amount of time he doesn’t spend with her.

Suddenly, who is the 2006-present audience sympathising with?)

They’re never just two people with flaws and failures and strengths of their own, that have to work through difficult times but ultimately compliment each other, enjoy each other’s company and truly love each other. They are always the shrewish, difficult and demanding woman and the loyal, loving man who’s too good for her. 

Gwen is the complete opposite of the Cool Girl. Sure, she’s beautiful and funny and likes sports and drinking. But she fails in the most important area. She takes up space. She disagrees. Se argues. She fails. She ‘nags and whines and makes everything about her’. And who she is and what she does isn’t ruled by what best suits the men in her life. Yet despite these terrible failures, she is loved and respected.

She is rewarded where rightfully she should be punished. So she is punished in fics. 

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

Life Unlived - yoongi x reader

Summary: On your death bed, your king visits you. 

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader / Seokjin x reader

Warnings: Major character death. Infidelity. Royalty AU!  Rating: Mature (NC17, for infidelity and implied smut) Word Count: 2,462 Genre: Romance, angst, royalty au 

Notes: This was supposed to be part of the 30-minute challenge I have going on - just basically, write anything within 30 minutes. But it got away - a whole extra hour! (Updated with new header + new format)

yoongi looks up as the heavy doors of his wife’s chamber open. for a moment, a sliver of candlelight escapes the room, some warmth passes his feet before disappearing into the cold. 

out steps one of his oldest advisors, lord seokjin. even after decades of life and two wars marred by many deaths, the lord of the north remains handsome even in the dark. his hair has gone grey, just like yoongi’s and though his shoulders remain broad as the sky, his back has stooped bringing him closer to the earth. 

“my king,” seokjin greets with a bow, and if he’s surprised with his royal crown’s appearance, he does not show it. 

there are no servants around, yoongi made sure of that. and decades ago, that would’ve been enough for his oldest friend to call him by his name. perhaps even crack a joke or two, but it’s been decades since he heard seokjin address him with anything but detached respect.

in the darkness of the halls, a cough echoes and both men sharply turn to the door, their bodies stiff, waiting just until the cough subsides. 

“how is she?” yoongi asks

for a moment, seokjin’s old bones fill with rage. rage at the audacity of yoongi to ask. rage at the unfairness of it all. and yet -- one look at his king’s trembling hands, seokjin knows that this is not the time for bitter words. 

“not well, my king. the physician says that... she will be lucky if she sees the morning.” 

yoongi closes his eyes and feels the cold hands of dread grip his heart and slide against his back, the ermine fur of his coat failing to keep it away. “i see.”

when yoongi enters the room, he looks at your figure bathed in candlelight. if he’s more of a romantic, he’ll have the courage to tell you that you look ethereal like the sun goddess you and your country believe in. (or used to believe in, before, before his father outlawed such heretic practices) 

with your faded hair stark against the rich red of your pillows, your skin glowing, he could almost taste a time way back.

but then, a cough rattles your chest and without opening your eyes, you reach for a cloth by your side. you strain for the few inches of distance and yoongi steps to close the distance between the two of you. 

he hands you the bloodied cloth quietly and watches you cough, your eyes blearily looking at him. 

“seokjin? my lord, did i not tell you to go home?” 

yoongi’s heart stutters at the fondness in your voice, even when it’s not directed at him. he aches to be spoken to like that so much that he wants to lie -- 

“it’s me.”

and instantly, your languid - weakened- state vanishes and he sees you transform from an ailing old (beautiful, still-- you were always so so beautiful) woman on her deathbed to the warrior queen he married so long ago. 

you blink away the sleep and fatigue before turning to see your king standing by your arm. “my king, what are you doing here?” 

without speaking, yoongi sits by your side, taking the cloth and dabbing it on your mouth gently, his own withered hands shaking. gone are the days that he bested all the land in archery and tennis, and all the things princes do. 

“my queen is sick, do i not have the right to see her too?” 

the last word hangs between the two of you. it hangs like the decades long affair unacknowledged yet known to both of you. 

you handle it like you always handle yoongi. unyielding in the face of the storm. 

“of course you do, my king. but i know for a fact that the physician has barred you from entering my chambers.” 

yoongi inhales, his own breathe stuttering. oh, to be young again and to argue with you endlessly. he’ll take your sharp words everyday if it meant you’d look at him. 

“the physician says you may not last the night.”

“and you’re here to make sure i do not?”

the bite in your words is familiar but your accusation is not. do you truly think... no... you couldn’t possibly...

yoongi looks at you, stunned, his eyes wide and you pretend that it’s glassy too. perhaps he has tears for you too. 

“i do not wish for your death, my queen.” 

you eye him warily, the softness of his voice lost against the hardness of the walls surrounding your heart. those you’ve built the moment you knew that you and he could never be. 

“so you say. when i die, they will pressure you to marry again. and you may marry anyone just give me the courtesy befitting of my station - thirty days, my king.” 

it is familiar. you’ve said the same thing before and though it was decades ago, yoongi never forgot. 

it had not been the first nor the last affair you discovered. and as the years went by after the incident, yoongi realized that perhaps it’s not even really just about his affairs. 

but, it had been a fine morning and you were twenty-two and he was twenty-three. you’ve been married for a year and he’s been pursuing someone for longer. 

it had been an old acquaintance of his, a daughter of one of their esteemed lords. they had gone to school together. she was beautiful, kind and regal. he was supposed to marry her instead of you and he had fancied that perhaps he’d be one of the rare monarchs with a happy marriage. 

but instead, for the sake of the alliance, he married you. 

he had been bitter and angry, and he did not hide it from you, therefore turning the whole court hostile against their new queen. whispers of your past as a warrior littered the halls adorned with vile words and curses as if you made the choice to sit on their throne yourself. 

you had known that monarchs of their country were not expected to be monogamous. you knew that. but you were at least hoping it won’t be slapped against your face.

“I didn’t come here with the belief that you would love me, yoongi,” you began, poised and regal, your royalty shining through. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “I’d just hope perhaps you’d allow me the courtesy my station requires.”

none too subtly, you flicked your hard eyes to the window where the woman in question walked with the other ladies.

yoongi was enraged at your courage and in anger he said, “you’re welcome to your own affairs, my lady. leave me with mine. and don’t call me ‘yoongi’, i am your king.” 

nights after, he laid with her for the first time and continued to do so for a long time. 

“my lord, what’s on your mind?” his lover murmured against his chest, catching yoongi looking at the empty vase by his desk. 

“why do you not send wildflowers anymore, my lady?” he asked, quietly. 

“hmm?” she hummed, kissing the back of his ear, “i’ve never sent any, my lord, you deserve far more than just flowers from the road.” 

soon, he found that the little things were from you. the command to re-shoe his favorite horse every time he hunts, the extra bags of tea from the neighboring kingdom, the quiet of the court of commons -- the wildflowers by his bed.

he didn’t think you’d actually have an affair until he slowly saw you less and less around his circle and more and more with somebody else.

he half-expected it to be a quick affair, seokjin was notorious with his strings of lovers, but a month passed, then another... and another. 

and he never left. 

even when you could not lay with him, when you and yoongi were trying for an heir. even when you were swollen with yoongi’s children. even when you marched on to fight in the first war - the first queen to ever do so. even when you grew old, and your skin began to droop - seokjin never left. 

it grated yoongi’s pride for years and it took even longer for him to realize that it’s not his pride that was hurting. because he realized, not once, not even after you lost one of your children to stillbirth, not even after your other children’s births, not once, did you call him by his name ever again. 

yoongi sits vigil with you through the night. his own back hunching as he sit by your bed, offering you water and more blankets as the night grew colder. you slip and out of consciousness and as time went on, you grow less and less lucid. 

confessions spill from your lips. of how you’re worried of your children; your son who’s next in line to be king, your younger son who’s learning up north and your daughter, who’s almost at the age to be married. you worry and worry.

and then you turn to him, your hand seeking his. “you will guide them, won’t you, my king?”

“of course, my queen.” yoongi reassures, his lips touching your knuckles. here, at the end, he will take what he can get. 

your eyes shine at the gesture, soft and almost loving. “you know, i loved you the first time i saw you.” for a heartbeat, yoongi aches at the thought that perhaps you are seeing seokjin here, in your last moments, but he holds fast, even as his eyes water. “but you hurt me so much and so often, yoongi.” 

a heart-wrenching sob tears through you and a tear drops on his withered hand. at the tip of his tongue are apologies and confessions of his own, remembering all his sharp words and bitter affairs. but he remains quiet. 

“i first saw you in the battlefield, do you remember? of course you don’t. silly me.” you muse, eyes softer than he’s ever seen. “i was bloody and dirty, and you looked at me like...”

your voice grow softer, sadder, “you looked at me like i was dirt beneath your shoe.”

yoongi shakes his head, vehemently, “no, no, i thought you were beautiful.” he confesses.

he remembers, how beautiful you were, how terrifyingly beautiful you were - goddess of war, fighting for the kingdom you would one day rule together. he feared you then, as he continues today. what will come in your absence?

in your last moments, you let your walls drop and you smile, reaching over to caress his face, “a liar does not make a good ruler, my king.” 

yoongi captures your hand, and holds it close, his breath hitching at the teasing lilt of your voice. oh all the wasted time, all his pride. “i am not lying.” 

softly, you brush your thumb against the tear streak under his eye. “are you crying for me, my king? will you miss me?”

a lump forms in yoongi’s throat and he nods, vulnerable and aching. he climbs into your bed quietly, shuffling until you’re face to face. 

“truly?” you ask, eyes round in wonder. 

“truly.” 

the old monarchs will laugh at yoongi, old and curled up with his dying wife. his father always said that there’s no softness and romance in a marriage between two royals and yoongi used to believe it, seeing it play out in his parent’s marriage and in yours. 

but, he had also seen the quiet looks his father gave his mother when he thought she wasn’t looking. he had seen the almost-routine way his mother cuts meats for his father on their table and thinks that perhaps, it wasn’t always that love wasn’t found. 

it’s just that it was never spoken, acted on, and fostered. 

bitterly, he realizes that he and his father turn out to have more in common than he thought. 

silence befalls the two of you and yoongi holds both of your hands, scared of the coldness of them. death has entered the room and he aches for his youth, for a miracle - anything to fight for you. there’s still so much he wants to say. too much. 

“even if you didn’t love me, i had hope you would’ve found a friend in me, my king.” you whisper, voice raspy and your eyes fluttering. 

yoongi’s lips wobble, “yoongi. please, my--- y/n, please say my name again.”

“yoongi,” you repeat, the name almost unfamiliar to you, “yoongi, did you find a friend in me?”

i found so much more, i’m sorry -- i’m sorry. “yes. i did.” 

a brilliant one, a kind one with whom he raised his children with and ruled his kingdom with. someone who raced to the battlefield with him, every bit deserving of your people’s love. a great friend, just albeit distant, there was an ocean neither of you ever attempted to cross again, not after more and more cruel words from yoongi’s pride and more and more distance from you. 

“i’m glad.” you sigh, feeling death nudging at you, “i’m sorry you had to marry me.” you confess, “i’ve robbed you of your happiness.”

strength returns briefly into the old king’s hands and he grips your hands desperately, only loosening it at the sight of your wince. “no. no. i--”

will he really do this? confess on your death bed and let you die weighed by his own regrets? will he? will he say, "i’ve loved you too for the longest time"? But isn't it cruelty? Something more for him and less for you so instead--

“you brought me happiness.” yoongi has always been selfish. he will not deny himself this and you will not die thinking you are unloved by your husband. 

in the dancing lights, you are young again and you smile almost delighted and yet so heartbroken at the same time. “i’m sorry i brought you pain as well. perhaps next time...”

yoongi doesn’t believe in the next life, but for you, for this, he will. “next time.”

the queen passes in her sleep and witnesses say that the king was found cradling her body close, his sobs echoing in the chamber. they say it took hours before he allowed the physicians to take her body and prepare her for her final place. 

their kingdom mourn for the loss of a great queen that ruled with compassion and wisdom, she who listened to the masses because her roots remained strong. their children mourn for the loss of a gentle mother, with eyes like crescent moons and presence wrought with history and magic. 

seokjin leaves his estates to his brother, rides a horse in the middle of the night and never comes back.

and their king, yoongi - yoongi never marries again. 

notes: comments and feedback are much appreciated! :) 

[dcbbw]

Drake. Singing "Jolene" in the shower. Please please pretty please. xoxoxo

Hahahahahahahahahaahahaha, BURNS!!!! Hopefully I delivered what you were looking for.

To provide context/background to whomever reads this, @burnsoslow and I have random late-night convos that cover a whole range of topics. The other night, we were discussing Drake Walker’s taste in music. I see him liking old-school country and 70s rock (think The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac). Then I got this image of Drake in the shower singing Dolly Parton’s Jolene, a song about a woman pleading with a temptress not to take her man.

Well, then the question became which Drake? The answer is below the cut.

Song lyrics are from Jolene and are the property of their respective owner(s). Forgive me, Dolly for taking liberties with some of your words, but Burnsy came up with the BEST name!

Thanks to my bears for pre-reading!

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Answer has hints of lemon. 

Driam

Drake Walker was in the shower, his fingers working shampoo into his thick, brown hair. As suds bubbled over his scalp and transformed his mane into a white, soapy cap he sang.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

Your beauty is beyond compare With flaming locks of auburn hair With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green Your smile is like a breath of spring Your voice is soft like summer rain And I cannot compete with you Jolene

Liam joined him, the hot water pelting his body as Drake began the second verse. Liam’s heart twisted at Drake’s song choice. Coronation was mere hours away; Liam would be fully duty bound to Cordonia and her soon-to-be Queen before the night was over.

“You have no competition, love,” Liam murmured against Drake’s wet skin as he stepped behind his lover, his arms encircling his waist, hands splayed across Drake’s hips.

Drake stopped singing. “Hey, Li,” he said softly.

“This Jolene is not an apt description of Lady Riley. She sounds more like Duchess Olivia,” Liam frowned as his hand began stroking Drake’s length.

“Ha! Never made the connection, but I suppose you’re right.” Drake’s eyes closed in both bliss and hurt at his King’s touch.

“I swear on everything Drake, Lady Riley won’t come between us and what we have. It’s just a temporary situation.”

Drake stepped closer under the shower head, letting the water rinse the shampoo; rivulets of soapy water rand down his back, causing Liam to release his hold from Drake.

“Did you hear me, love?”

Drake nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If his lips parted now, he would tell Liam the truth and he had promised Riley she could be the one to tell Liam.

Liam’s choice would refuse his proposal. Because she had chosen Drake. And they were leaving for America in a week.

It broke Drake’s heart, but he and Liam would never be together they way they both wanted and deserved. Everyone was free to love the way they wanted to except the King. And Liam would never, could never give his country the attention it needed if Drake were in the picture.

Already, he was planning to divorce a Queen he hadn’t even married.

Drake would say his goodbyes to Liam after Riley broke the news. He wondered if he could ever say goodbye to Liam. The man was ingrained in his mind, his skin, his very soul.

He had to. It was for the best. It was for Cordonia.

Commoner’s Wife AU Drake

The Duchess of Valtoria blearily opened one eye, letting out a loud groan at the time. 9 am. Her head hurt and her mouth was dry from consuming too much alcohol and not enough food at the charity gala her Great House had hosted the night before. She had been too busy being the dutiful wife and gracious hostess.

She sipped whiskey with her husband, Drake, as they made their rounds; their smiles were wide, and their questions sincere as they networked with their fellow nobles. She drank wine with the ladies of court while the men smoked cigars. She had flitted from table to table during dinner, making sure everyone was full and happy, with a martini in her hand.

When she finally sat down to eat with her husband, the orchestra had begun to play, and the Duke and Duchess led everyone in the first dance.

The entire evening, her eyes constantly strayed to the King, who had escorted Duchess Olivia to the soiree. Riley’s eyes narrowed whenever Liam’s fingers touched Olivia’s. Her jaw clenched when she saw the King and Duchess dancing, his hands placed just above her buttocks and her slender, pale arms snaked around his neck.

Her husband saw it all.

Riley rolled onto her back, her head sinking into her pillow. She had already decided she wasn’t going to do anything other than hydrate and pop ibuprofen. Her phone buzzed; her hand reached out to grab it.

Liam:  Last night’s gala was magnificent, yet pales compared to the shining jewel that is you. The Crown’s contribution is forthcoming. I miss you.

Riley deleted the message and tossed her phone back onto the bedside table. Fuck you and Olivia.

She had just risen from the bed to use the bathroom when she heard the shower turn on. Drake. She decided she would kiss her husband good morning and plead hangover to get out of any plans he may have made for them for the day. What good was being a Duchess if one couldn’t take a day to rest and relax?

And sulk over one’s lover being lovey-dovey with someone else.

Riley entered the bathroom, hearing Drake singing. She raised an eyebrow. Two things Drake didn’t do: sing and dance. She listened to his voice, a deep bass, singing an old Dolly Parton tune. But the words were wrong.

She talks about you in her sleep And there's nothing I can do to keep From crying when she calls your name JoLiam

And I can easily understand How you could easily take my girl But you don't know what she means to me JoLiam

Riley’s hand covered her O-shaped mouth. Did Drake know?  The twisting in her stomach was not so much about being caught; she did have enough love for Drake to not want him to be hurt. It just wasn’t strong enough to overcome her need for Liam.

She hastily coughed to announce her presence; the singing stopped.

“Brooks?” Drake called out.

Riley stuck her head in the shower; the spray lightly peppered her skin. “Good morning,” she said softly.

Drake grinned. “Good morning.”

“Hey, how about waffles for breakfast? And that thick cut bacon you like?”

Drake looked at her in confused surprise. “Are you up for it? You had more than your share of liquor last night.”

Riley kissed Drake’s wet lips, slipping in a little bit of tongue. “You’re my husband! Of course I’m up for it. And anything else you may want to do today.”

Drake looked searchingly over his wife’s expression. “Are you sure?”

Riley nodded, a bright smile on her face. “Positive!”

Drake soaped his washcloth. “Brooks, are you happy? With me?”

Riley swallowed over the lump in her throat. “There’s no one I’d rather be with,” she lied.

She left the bathroom to cook breakfast before her husband saw the truth in her eyes.

Upstate AU Dramien

Heavy rain poured outside while Drake Walker and Damien Nazario lay in bed watching the Saved by the Bell reboot on one of their many streaming services. It was 10 am, but with no lights on their bedroom, the room was as dark as if it were still 6 am.

“Thank GOD we cleaned out the gutters last weekend,” Drake commented.

“Hmmmm”, Damien responded absently.

He wasn’t the house person. He liked the idea of home ownership: It represented adulthood and was a great investment, but the work it took to keep up the house and protect it from unnecessary problems? The tree pruning, gutter cleaning, keeping sewage lines clear? Drake took care of that or found folks who would.

“You know, it doesn’t get dark like this in the city when it rains,” Drake observed as they watched Lexi shy away from kissing Jaime because he really liked Aisha.

“The lights from all the stores and office buildings penetrate the cloud cover.” Damien shifted in the bed to pull more sheets over his body. His eyes were glued to the screen. “Why does it not surprise me that Zack Morris is an absentee father?”

“I wonder why Jessie is still hanging in there with her loser husband. He’s having an emotional affair with a character from his book!”

“And now said character is pregnant.”

Drake shook his head as he grabbed the remote to turn the television off. He glanced over at Damien. “Breakfast?”

Damien nodded. “I’ll cook if you wash the dishes.”

“I cleaned the gutters so we don’t have to worry about it raining on our heads. You cook and do dishes, and I’ll take care of dinner.”

“Deal”

Drake climbed out of bed. “I’m gonna grab a shower.”

“In our new manly bathroom?” Damien teased.

“It was PINK! ALL OVER! Like a teenage girl puked up everything Pinterest in there! Even the toilet was pink.”

“I like pink!” Damien argued.

“You like everything I don’t.” Drake gave Damien a quick kiss on his lips and padded into their master bath.

Alone in the bed, Damien stretched before getting up and making the bed. He then went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The sounds of the shower and Drake’s singing greeted him.

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him just because you can

You could have your choice of men But I could never love again He's the only one for me Jolene

“Why are you begging Jolene to leave me alone?” Damien teased as he stepped into the shower with his lover.

“Why aren’t you cooking breakfast? Drake countered.

“I missed you,” Damien replied as he grabbed his washcloth.

Drake looked at him knowingly. “You think I’m going to do the cooking as well as the home improvements.” He shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Jolene would happily do it.”

“I’m not Jolene. And she needs to stay 50 feet away from your ass.”

“I love it when you’re jealous.”

Drake grabbed Damien around his waist and pushed his back against wet tile. “How about some … dessert before breakfast?”

Damien kissed Drake deeply. “Always down for dessert.”

“But only if you’re making it with me,” Drake clarified.

“Jolene only cooks breakfast.”

DC AU Drake (Issa throwback)

It was the morning after Drake Walker had broken up with Riley Brooks inside of the Columbia Heights Target. He hadn’t slept a wink and was hoping a hot shower would soothe his red, burning eyes and relax him enough to get some type of rest.

Or wash away his guilt.

He stepped beneath the water, wishing there was someone he could talk to, but he didn’t even have an explanation for what had happened. He wanted to call Brooks and see how she was holding up; they had been friends too long for it to just end that way. But Drake had no idea what to say to make it better, and she was hurting enough.

As he shampooed his hair, a memory came to him.

Drake was in the shower, his hair filled with suds and his conditioner bottle in his hand, his mouth to it as if it were a microphone. He was belting out Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5, and so caught up in the song he didn’t notice that Riley had slipped into the shower behind him.

She stood, her hands crossed over her chest as she giggled. Drake turned quickly, dropping the bottle; he grinned at her sheepishly. “You heard that, huh?”

“You’re missing the boobs and hair, but you kinda nailed it.”

“Ya think?” Drake picked up the conditioner.

“I didn’t peg you as a Dolly Parton fan.” Riley stepped in front of him to let the water wet her body.

“She is ICONIC, and we do not deserve her!” Drake began to shampoo his girlfriend’s hair. “Did you know rumor has it she wrote Jolene and I Will Always Love You on the same day?”

Riley squirted her rose and peony scented bodywash onto her washcloth. “Really? Homegirl was going through that day.”

“But she’s been married to her husband for over 50 years,” Drake pointed out.

Riley turned to face him. Her hands pressed against his shoulders. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t have problems.” Her eyes looked into Drake’s, the slightest hint of uncertainty in them. “We’re good, right?”

Drake looked at her, puzzled. “Why do you ask that?”

“I just don’t want to be hurt. Or killed.”

Drake pulled Riley closer. “You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies.”

“Maybe.” Riley laid her head on his shoulder. “I just … “

“Shhhhhh,” Drake interrupted her. “You’re it, Brooks. We’re good. We’ll always be good.”

Drake wiped a soapy cloth over his torso. He shook his head, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Brooks deserved an apology, an explanation. But he had to find the words, because right now it was looking like he was thinking with his dick.

And Alyssa Devereaux was so much more.

Devereaux. She deserved the truth.

Drake had to find a lotta words.

Fuck!

Another Dolly Parton song popped into his head and in a cracked voice, he began to sing.

I had to have this talk with you My happiness depends on you And whatever you decide to do Jolene

Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene I'm begging of you please don't take my man Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Please don't take him even though you can Jolene, Jolene

Tagging:  @sirbeepsalot @jared2612 @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @hopefulmoonobject @amomentofsinclairity @ao719 @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @janezillow @marietrinmimi @annekebbphotography @merridithsmiscellany-blog @queenjilian @texaskitten30 @glaimtruelovealways @indiacater @forthebrokenheartedthings @kingliam2019 @bebepac @zaffrenotes @liyanin @liamxs-world @choiceslife @ac27dj @the-soot-sprite @gnatbrain @sanchita012 @anotherbeingsworld @atha68 @hopelessromanticmonie @amandablink @cmestrella @iaminlovewithtrr @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @starrystarrytrouble @liamandneca @liamrhysstalker2020 @alyssalauren @ladyangel70 @yourmajesty09 @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @twinkleallnight @umccall71

 #long post #dcbbw answers #Jolene ask #very slightly, lightly ns*w #drake walker

[valwrite]

O1 pride / shock; andre layton series

general masterlist

series masterlist

series taglist: @gollyderek @fanfic-addict-98 @lets-love-little-me

summary:  hell has frozen over and, in it’s place, snowpiercer has emerged. it’s many carriages carry secrets: affairs, murders, betrayals. and that’s only mentioning andre layton’s secrets. when a serial killer appears, detective layton is called on to the case. though reluctant at first, he agrees to take on the case when he discovers the first victim is rumored to be a once Tallie, an ex-coworker, an ex-lover: Y/N L/N. what starts as a hunt for her killer quickly becomes a hunt for the truth behind her suspicious death. the tail is uprising; his ex-wife is back in his line of sight; all eyes of the train are on him; and all andre layton can focus on is finding Y/N L/N’s body.

series warnings:  angst, character death, smut, infidelity.

chapter warnings: mentions of suicide, details of murder.

fic style: series.

word count: 4292.

author’s note: apologies for the delayed posting of this, i was on holiday and forgot to queue this post. the first chapter follows very closely the actual series but, the following chapters deviate and will follow their own plot, whilst still maintaining some of the show’s main plots. as always, any feedback is welcomed.

Of all the things Andre Layton had thought about when it came to life further up the train, smell was the last thing he'd ever considered.

Crouched over on the floor, he takes in a whiff of the air. There's no thickness to this air, unlike the Tail's air. There is no stench of sweat; or blood; or tears mixed in with the breath he takes. The air in the Tail tells a story of it's inhabitants struggle for survival, all the daily hardships they endure leaving behind a foul stench the Tailies had grown to find comforting. This air is clean. Perhaps a little too clean, the faintest hint of bleach is tickling at his nose. He knows from experience what the smell of bleach could be covering up but pushes those thoughts to the side, preferring to live in blissful ignorance for just this one breath.

His head is pounding, the very first headache he's had since, well, he's forgotten how long it's been, actually. There's always the thought of how maybe the headache is chronic in the Tail, never ending and, therefore, never beginning, bringing Andre to a numbness when faced with such pain. But it's been hours now since he had been forced out of his home, perhaps the quiet consumed him enough to remind him of a life without noise and headaches, only to snatch the rug out from beneath his feet and hand him the worst one he'd dealt with.

Andre's in disbelief still. He knows the Tail is in chaos. The chaos is what kept them all alive, what will continue keeping them all alive. But, uptrain? He's always assumed they were tranquil. What he's quickly discovering is that, while tranquility may have been the surface layer, if someone even begins to dig just slightly, they'd very easily stumble upon savage beasts wearing sheep's clothing. The Tail may very well be a dark and difficult place to live but all of it's travelers had learnt long ago to find empathy in each other, working together rather than just for themselves.

A murder has taken place. Well, actually, two. Possibly three, from the way Officer Till had been arguing in hushed whispers with her superior earlier on, after Andre took a few beatings from the British officer, who's name began with O and ended in asshole. The death tally isn't his main focus either way, rather the job they are attempting to enforce on him is.

It's not like he doesn't understand why or how they came to the decision of requesting - he believes they were more demanding - his services. They have a potential serial killer on the loose and they claim he's the only one on the train with experience in such a field. Of course they were going to come knocking on his door. Only, he's not technically the only one on board with familiarity of crime scenes, just the only detective. And, see, if it weren't for the fact he'd spent however many years has passed watching how the upper class men on the train came and stole food, medicine, life from the Tail, then maybe he would have been a little more giddy about stepping back into Detective Layton's shoes. Alas, they'd made their beds and it was about time they started to lay in it, because they weren't about to get any help from him.

For all he cared, the killer could have at them all till there was no one left but the Tailies. They were the only ones good for anything on Snowpiercer.

"So, you got a body?" Andre stares up at the Brakeman- Doshe? No, no, Roche! - and the voice of the train, the woman who'd introduced herself but he'd tuned out her name. He doesn't need to know the name of the woman who spoke for Mr. Wilford. It was bad enough the man had been too coward to ever properly address the Tail by making a physical appearance, never mind the fact he won't even speak to them over the announcer. He sometimes imagined Mr. Wilford, with a pot belly and a whitened beard, surrounded by nothing but lavish. "Good for you, keep it for yourself, like everything else you lot have."

"This killer is taking lives on board this train." The train's voice starts up again, staring down at him with not a wrinkle of emotion behind her callous eyes. He's met a few women like her in his life, who's eyes remained devoid and near lifeless even when faced with some of the most horrific acts a person could do. "Like it or not, you're a member of this train and-"

"That's the problem with your lot, the Tail's only part of the train when it's convenient to you."

"The tail was always part of the train, just not it's inhabitants." Roche fires out, his brows furrowed and he uncrosses his arms. "The rest of us payed to be here, as workers or as passengers."

"That means my people deserve to pay with their life?" He can feel himself becoming more riled up by the minute, the pain from his previous beating being pushed to a side as he contemplates the repercussions of brawling with the older man. 

"Roche, that's enough." Melanie interrupts them, stepping in the way of Roche and giving Andre no choice but to stare back at her empty eyes. Upon further observation, he catches the first sign of humanity in her. The bags under her eyes, subtle yet there. Dark, wrinkled, pillowy. It seems that exhaustion unites them both, even if their reasons for it are worlds away from similar. "The people on this train need security, Layton. If they found out there's a serial killer on board, the classes would break out in chaos-"

"You seem awfully sure there's only one killer and not just a copycat." A serial killer requires a minimum of three bodies. They has two. Andre wonders if this Melanie woman is unaware of such a technicality and had used the term flippantly, or if there is another body, a third body, he's being kept unaware of. If so, who? And, why?

"All of this, everything Mr. Wilford has worked so hard to keep in order and working, will have been for nothing if we can't maintain the peace. I'm not going to beg for your help, Layton, but just know you'd be saving us all. Including the Tail. You're the only one on board experienced with this."

"Guess the rich didn't consider the fact they'd start killing their own."

"So, will you help?"

This was the question Andre has been asking himself from the moment they'd stripped him away from the Tail; from his people; from his family. He knew, from the second the blonde haired woman had called out his name and butchered their plans for attack, that there was something they wanted from him. It was the same for anyone else who got called up train, there was something needed from a Tailie and it was never something good. 

He can perfectly picture the faces of the Tail all staring back at him as he demanded to be taken back, armed men using all the strength they could summon to pull him out of the way of the closing doorway. Some looked on in horror, fearing for his life under the watchful eyes of the rich. Others gave him nothing but betrayal and anger in their eyes, as if they seemed to believe he'd orchestrated everything to have himself rescued from the Tail. Maybe, Andre wonders, some of them believe Zarah had it planned out, especially after leaving the Tail herself. Perhaps there was someone else they thought had saved him, someone who'd only recently left the Tail. 

If Andre were to choose between being rescued by Zarah or her, Zarah's name wouldn't even begin to cross his mind.

The Tail is angry with him, he knows that for sure. By pure luck, they'd seemed to elect him as their leader, even if they worked as a united force and not an army. If he wants a chance to repair any damage caused to his people, his only real hope is to find his way back home and stay there, until he can charge onward with the Tailies and claim the train for themselves. Leaving the killer out in their playground of terror may just assist him in collapsing the fragile system of the train.

"No." Finally, he has his answer and it pleases him to hear the confidence in his voice, the pride he has for his status as a Tailie shinning brighter than ever before. 

"No?" The train's voice echoes as Roche simply shakes his head behind the woman, muttering some intangible curse under his breath.

"You heard me. Solve your own shit."

She pulls back from him, turning her back to now face Roche and though Andre can hear both their voices speaking in whispers, he can not make out exactly what they are saying. She'd walked out of the small room before he can even register what's happening and Roche has him standing back up onto his feet, a hand firmly grasping at his forearm whilst he carelessly shoves him back into the hall of the train. 

The quiet settles in again and Andre's fleeting attention sinks into memories from life before the cold, a fairly common habit of his which seems to be happening more than usual as of late, since she'd left the Tail much like she'd left him at the park, and the sight of the mutilated body he'd been brought out to investigate which brought back every memory of every case he'd taken on.  

In this current memory, Andre walked into an apartment. 

The room was trashed, with smashed glass and flipped furniture scattered all over the place. Upon first look, he suspected a robbery gone wrong. All around him, officers pulled him each and every way, all sharing their tid-bits of information regarding the on-going investigation, from suspects to who'd discovered the body to begin with.

The body. God, he hadn't even seen it yet but there's already that sinking feeling settling in his gut, the feeling that arrived every time he witnessed another crime scene. It was comforting to him, though disturbing, that such a thing could still rattle his bones and disturb his soul, the overexposure to it not making it any easier to deal with. Andre enjoyed the fact he had an emotional response still, the very thing that proved he was very much human beyond his detective work.

The sinking feeling grew when he saw the victim. A young woman, probably no older than his Zarah, who he liked to think was smiling; or laughing; or simply breathing and alive as he viewed the sight of that deceased woman. There were marks all down her left arm and blood on her fingertips, suggesting a chance that the victim struggled and fought for her right to live. It' was only one bullet wound, right between her eyes, yet that one simple wound ended an entire life. Killed any future, diluted any past and destroyed any present the victim had. 

But there was someone else in the room with him, another woman, though that one was breathing. Her hands were covered by medical gloves and she was crouching by the victim, a pair of tweezers in her hand as she picked at something in the victims hand. 

"Who are you?" She jumped at the sound of his voice, staring up at him with a look of discontent and frustration.

"You made me drop the DNA sample, dude. Not cool." She went back to her tweezers work. "I'm the department's new forensic scientist, Y/N L/N. I take it you are detective Layton?"

"I am." He nodded his head once, taking out his notepad and pen as their task at hand came barreling to the front of his mind, reminding him of the fact there was a very clear murder  victim between the two of them. "What do we know of the victim so far?"

They had made their way down a hatchet hole, with Roche in the lead and Andre a few steps behind, cuffed and with his head held high. His hair brushes gently against his back, a strangely comforting repeat of motion that accompanies his less than pleasant travels throughout the train's cabins. 

"You gotta take me back to the Tail, man." He pleads after Roche announces he's not heading home but, rather, to the man's holding cell. There was a time where it was Andre Layton who would be the one dumping someone in a holding cell whilst proclaiming he would be returning home to his wife, but now he had no wife; and no cell; and no badge that mirrored his past. "The Tail's all I got in the world."

The lead Brakeman does nothing but shake his head in response and Andre sighs, tired of fighting but nowhere near ready to give up. 

They're plunged into chaos suddenly, sirens echoing up the train as Andre feels himself be stripped away from Roche and slammed full force into the metal caging surrounding him. The fresh bruising on his ribs screams in pain but Andre only hisses, his teeth clenching to bite back the grunt of anger begging to escape him. A man, around the same age as Roche and the same stature as himself, stares back at him with pure hatred. He's dressed in blue armor gear and his knuckles are turning whiter as his grip on Andre's collar tightens. And when he speaks, he spits every word out: "Now we've got a hostage, too."

Even in times of utter devastation, mankind finds a way to create division between themselves. In his life before the weather changed, he was targeted for the color of his skin. Now, he's also chased after for his status on the train. A filthy Tailie. 

"Commander! Let him go." The voice of the train comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and Andre is actually glad to see her when he feels the grip on him dissappear. 

"The Tailies have revolted again." The small mouthed women, who Miles refers to as the Executioner but is actually named Ruth, speaks next. 

"Yes. Mr. Wilford is aware."

"Look, whoever they are, I know 'em, okay?" He steps in, hoping to bargain with them. This may be his only chance to both save the Tailies and prove his loyalty to them. "I can help."

"Things are going too far with him-" Ruth's irritating voice pipes up again. 

"Please." He continues nonetheless, focusing only on the voice of the train, who he'd heard be referred to as Melanie. "They'll listen to me."

The Commander is the one to lead him to the Tailies. His grip on Andre is tighter than before and it feels purposeful when he shoves his side into the wall. His Irish accent is distinct enough to remind Andre that he and this man have history, from the initial revolts started by the Tailies, where they fought to keep the very small space of the Tail. Many were lost in the war but it wasn't in vain, it helped the Tailies learn to rely on each other and be a family.

"You've got three minutes." The Commander gives him one last shove, right into a masked soldier's shoulder. 

He's only in the doorway and already Andre can see just how much damage his people have done. It's what they'd been training and waiting to do for so long, he never imagined they'd fail. Bodies lay all over the place, some of Tailies but most of them soldiers. Blood splatter paints the wall in red and lights are flickering at the end of the hall. His people had fought hard. They'd now need to fight harder, once he revealed his very hazy plan to them.

"Tailies! Who's left?" He listens to his own voice echo down the train. "It's Layton."

It takes no more than a second for a familiar voice to chime in, calling back to him: "Layton, you're a coward!"

It's Pike, which doesn't really surprise him at all. The man had always questioned Andre, always been ready to point out his mistakes and share his wrongdoings. 

"Pike?" He says, after a sigh and an eye roll.

Andre finally steps into the bloodied carriage, carefully placing each step on the ground as quietly as possible. So far, all he knows is that Pike is there. And there's no guarantee that man wouldn't try take Layton down given the chance, meaning he had to be subtle and careful in his approach. He steps over arms; and legs; and torsos, the stench of blood so thick in the air he can almost choke on it.

"We don't want you here!" Pike speaks again.

"I'm coming in."

"No, you're not!"

"Who's with you?" No matter what, Andre tells himself that finding out who remains is his top priority. And keeping Pike talking may just distract him long enough for Andre to disarm him in a sudden approach. 

There's three of them on the other side of the cabin. Pike's at the front, blood drying on his hands and a makeshift weapon clasped in one of them. He's stewing in his own anger, on guard each step Andre takes. The other two are pretty much in the same positions, only the biggest of them all has a familiar, though terrified, woman captured in his arms: Till, one of the brakemen who'd been with Andre earlier on that day. 

"How's it going?" He's trying his best to calm them down.

"Yo, Layton, where you coming from, man?" But the betrayal is already so evident in their eyes, their voices, their body language. To them, Andre is looking less like a Tailie than when he was dragged out of there.

"Uptrain, man." Honesty may be his best policy, if he plays his cards right. "Yo, they pulled me up to solve a murder. You believe that?" He sure as hell still didn't. "They're doing us a favor and killing each other up there."

"Bullshit." Pike is still angry but what's new? Andre knows he needs to redirect his anger off of himself and back onto those who are the real enemy. "You're a traitor! This will only end one way."

"Yeah." Andre's hand comes down on Pike's weapon, clasping it in his own strength and pulling it out of Pike's shaking arms. "They're gonna storm in here, and they're gonna butcher us. Everything we've fought for, everyone who's lost their life for this to even be achievable, it will all have been in vain."

"Two minutes!" The Commander's voice yells down the hall and suddenly they're all on edge again.

"I got a family, man. I can't die like this."

"Shut the fuck up, Z!" Pike's grip has returned to the weapon, widening Andre's eyes as he fears the man may strike him down in irrational anger.

"I got a wife and a kid on this train, Pike." Z fights back, enunciating each word with the passion of a devoted husband and a loving father. "Old Ivan offed himself, man. We're dong this for him. He hung himself with an electrical cord. That's what sparked this whole thing."

"Pike," Andre wants to grieve and break down, the loss of Ivan, a gentle soul in a world of unkindness, shaking him to his very core. But he can't. There's no time. "whatever happened between us, we're brothers." Pike's breathing slowly begins to deescalate. Andre loosens his grip on the spear between them both. "I think I got a way for us all to get outta this alive." At last, Pike lowers his weapon, his head shaking as he fights back his emotions. Andre seizes onward, making eye contact with the woman. "Hey. Till, It's okay. It's okay." It doesn't take long for him to convince the Tailie holding her captive to lower his weapon and, with an abrupt apology he wishes was sincere, Andre punches her in the face and watches how she falls down.

There's commotion straight away, with all three Tailies bringing their weapons back up and pointing them at Andre, the fire returning to their blood as  they look at the man they would call traitor. 

"What the hell, Layton!?"

"You need to surrender yourselves to the drawers!" He rushes out, before any of them can harm him. 

"No way!" Pike says.

"It's like sleep! They put you to sleep!" He'd seen them himself, zombiefied in the drawers as different wires and tubes kept their bodies alive whilst their minds slept away the revolutions the train done around the frozen landscape. 

"Okay. For how long?" Z seems more willing to cooperate.

"It's a goddamn coffin, Layton!"

"Listen to me! By my count, I went uptrain 130 cars today, okay? I seen shit none of us could've imagined, alright?"

"What? You seen your traitor wife!? Or your traitor girlfriend?"

"Pike, Old Ivan dreamed of this! I can piece together floor plans, maps, security details. Everything we could ever need to properly storm uptrain, all the way to the engine."

It's in utter tears that all three men throw down their weapons, Pike the most exhausted of all. "Look at the blood!" He cries, crouching on his knees. "I'm done, Layton! I'm done."

"One Tail, remember? It's only a matter of time until the day we take that engine, we're gonna need you waiting uptrain." Andre watches as the other man nods, standing up straight again and clearing his throat.

With the Tailies now in agreement, Andre finds himself stuck between the Commander, Ruth and Melanie, all demanding and fighting over what the fate of the Tailies should be. There's only one thing left for Andre to do, one last sacrifice of his pride to make.

"I'll do it." He speaks only to Melanie really, the others being drowned out in the sound of the train's wheels turning against the frozen track below. "I'll solve your murder. I will get your order back, and in exchange, you'll give mercy to the train."

"Mr. Wilford demands justice. But we can't afford to lose another life. Ruth will take an arm from a Tailie tomorrow." 

Hours have passed since the agreement was made and in a small holding cell lays Andre, his muscular build uncomfortably fit onto a small cot. He misses his bed in the Tail, the bed in his house, the bed in room 322 of the Marigold hotel just down the road from the station. It was the luxury of feeling refreshed every morning; of having a cup of coffee placed on his desk, her familiar handwriting across the attached sticky note that he'd taken advantage of for years. Now, he never even sees her face outside of his own memories. 

For the past half hour, he's been feigning sleep. Roche has been sat guard near his cell the whole time, though he believes the man should be on his way home soon, to his own bed and his own wife. The voice of the train interrupts this though, sneaking her way into the room so quietly Andre nearly opens his eyes and blows his cover.

"Nice work on getting him to cooperate." Roche is the first to speak. "How'd you know he would?"

"I could see it in his eyes. He'd do anything for the Tail, even if it means helping us." He hates the way Melanie speaks about him, like she understands every little thought in his head, every action he makes. Like he's a puppet and she's the puppeteer, moving him around with the strings she'd tied onto his limbs. "We'll get him started tomorrow with the proper investigation. I'll send you a list of anything and anywhere Mr. Wilford deems off limits."

"And what about the victims? Is he gonna get the full rundown or?"

"There's things he doesn't need to know about."

"Like the fact the first one was a Tailie?" Roche asks matter-of-factly and Andre swears he can see him cross his arms, that smug look across his face.

When the voice of the train speaks again, it knocks the wind out of Andre's lungs; stops the beating of his heart; freezes every thought in his head.

"The body of Y/N L/N is to be kept top secret.Detective Layton is not to even hear about her. Understood?"

He hasn't heard her name, her full name, in so long. He knows it's wrong but he loves to hear them call her by her maiden name, instead of by her married name. It's as if, on the moving life of the train, her husband doesn't exist, never existed. Perhaps reality would have been better that way, perhaps they could have survived longer to become more than dirty secrets reserved for nights of pleasure and mornings of ignorance. To even begin to fathom that she was no longer alive, on board the train, feels like more of a betrayal than when he'd last seen her walk out the doors of the Tail. He can remember it now, the anger he'd felt the next day when she'd never returned. It had stung more than when Zarah had left. To think he spent so long resenting her for abandoning them, when there's now the fact she's nothing more than a body in a serial killer case brings bile up Andre's throat.

There are secrets haunting the train. Between the murders and the politics, Andre begins to fear he's now stuck in the mess of it all, swimming blindly in a  sea of lies and being expected to be an honest man. He knows his only hope is to tear the train apart, limb from limb, and peak into the darkness it's trying to cover up. 

If that means uncovering Y/N L/N's fate along the way, so be it. 

[floatingbook]

The place of lesbians in women’s liberation and lesbophobia (1/2)

- Reading: Tales of the Lavender Menace by Karla Jay (part 2 here) At Karla Jay’s first Redstockings gathering:

“I would have never dared to question the leaders of a group I wanted to join. But after the [Redstockings] manifesto had been handed around, a woman named Rita Mae Brown, whom I knew slightly from NYU, pushed into the center of the room from her position in the doorway to take issue with Redstockings, even though it was her first meeting. Why, she demanded, didn’t Redstockings have a position on gay women? She began to argue that lesbian relationships were as important for a feminist group to embrace as the struggle to change men.” p. 43-44

The Redstockings completely forgetting to mention lesbians or to even have an opinion on the subject ready to be shared show how much of an afterthought we lesbians have always been in women’s liberation movement. We might only represent a fraction of women, but we still are women, and as such deserve liberation as much as any other straight women. The “struggle to change men” means having to interact, having to implicate oneself in reforming them. And what of women who would have nothing to do with their oppressors? What of women who do not want to spend all their energy and strength on the thankless task of making men understand that women are humans too?

“Rita [Mae Brown] alone had the courage to speak up at that Redstockings’ meeting, long before anyone else in New York’s feminist circles dared to be openly gay. Back then, apart from early activists such as Phyllis Lyon, Del Martin, and the other pioneering women of Daughters of Bilitis (DOB), few dared to admit in a public setting that they were lesbians. It was one thing to hang out in a gay bar where anyone simply assumed similar sexual proclivities or to be open in a gay student organization. It was quite another to announce one’s lesbianism and then demand it take center stage in a room full of straight feminists who were likely to be heterosexist (the word “homophobia” came later) and who had just issued an ultimatum to keep on sleeping with men as part of a program to mend the oppressors’ ways. Rita’s sharp challenge made Redstockings’ program seem quixotic to the point of being delusional: Were these women the oppressed or the oppressors?” p. 44

It’s a shame that being a lesbian had to remain a secret, on pain of being discriminated against. As lesbians, we have a unique outlook on the world around us and on men especially. We have way less interest in maintaining the status quo or in retaining any kind of ties with men. Our outlook on relationships with men are less tinted by the rosy lenses of the patriarchal promise of a happy-ever-after made of marriage and a brood of kids. Our very reasoning when it comes to women’s liberation is often less reformist than separatist; and as such our ideas are despised. Straight women wishing for romantic love cannot accept our conclusions that women would be better off independent from our oppressors.

“The leaders of Redstockings were disturbed and threatened by Rita [Mae Brown]’s behavior. They turned the conversation back around to men as our oppressors. Still, they looked uncomfortable. After all, Rita was calling them her oppressors when they were insisting that women like them (and us) were the most oppressed on earth. One of the main tenets of the “Redstockings Manifesto” was, “We identify the agents of our oppression as men… All other forms of exploitation and oppression (racism, capitalism, imperialism, etc. ) are extensions of male supremacy: men dominate women, a few men dominate the rest.” Although the group’s members identified with “the poorest, most brutally exploited women,” they would have found it counter productive, to put it mildly, to be forced to contemplate the ways that working-class women, disabled women, or Third World women (as we called women of coloraturas) were far worse off than someone like Kathie [Sarachild], who had attended Radcliffe College. By formulating a Marxist class analysis that emphasized unity among all women and foregrounded sexism as the tool to analyze other oppressions, they had hoped to quell demands by other women that double and triple oppressions receive priority.” p. 45

This kind of behaviour is obviously one of the reasons that led Kimberlé Crenshaw to pen down her vision of intersectionality in feminism. The founders of Redstockings and writers of its manifesto were mostly white, straight, university-educated women who had never and would never be oppressed on account of their sexual orientation, skin colour, social class or disability. As a result, the conclusions they draw in their theory can only be flawed and short-sighted. Their conclusions might be insightful, but only for a specific type of women. And according to Karla Jay, they seemed reluctant to widen their scope or take into account the experience of women different from them. While Rita Mae Brown (and other lesbians that later spoke up) offered them the opportunity to reflect on what they had concluded and make their reasoning better, more pragmatic, more adapted to the various circumstances of the women around them, they stood on their positions and dismissed lesbian concerns.

“Lesbianism was a more widely discussed issue than clashs and labor. Rita Mae Brown’s vociferous arrival in Redstockings had sparked discussion in Group X [the founding Redstockings cell], although reactions were mixed. Irene Peslikis, for one, was emboldened to admit to a long-term lesbian affair that Group X knew nothing about. But other members of Group X, echoing Betty Friedan’s assertion that lesbians were a “lavender menace,” began to blame gay women for causing dissension in the group and accused them of being “antifeminists.” Katie Sarachild wrote in Feminist Revolution that “many lesbians complained that they were excluded from the movement in the beginning often by simple virtue of the fact that the women in it spent so much time talking about such boring or irrelevant or disturbing to them subjects as sex with men, getting men to do the housework, and such related problems as abortions and childcare.”

What she and many other heterosexist Redstockings overlooked was that lesbians had been raised in families with men, had usually had sexual relationships with men, had worked with men, and sometimes lived with male roommates. Several lesbians I knew had children from previous marriages. What the straight women couldn’t see was that many Redstockings talked about men all the time the way dieters obsess about food. There were times when some of us, including a few of the heterosexuals, felt it would be more productive to focus on ways in which women could interact with one another positively.

The current of homophobia made many new members, including me, reluctant to mention homosexual experiences to the group. “ p. 65-66

Some straight members of Redstockings dismissed lesbians experiences as irrelevant to women’s liberation under the assumptions that because lesbians are not attracted to men and therefore would not engage in relationships with them in an ideal world, and so were not interacting with the male oppressor. In our world, this is a completely delusional assertion. Even in separatist communes, lesbians still have to deal with the law of the land, which has so far mostly been written and enacted by men. Lesbians too have fathers and brothers; lesbians too get sick and need to go to the hospital; lesbians too go out and use the amenities offered by society; lesbians too can be harassed and attacked by men. So women’s liberation concerns us as much as it does straight women, and our experiences with men and of sexism should not be dismissed as irrelevant.

And our experiences as lesbians tell us that straight women concerned with women’s liberation are most likely wasting their energy when they focus on trying to change men. Yes, these kind of discussions should take place, especially between women who do not want to renounce relationships with men; but lesbians are right to wonder why such subjects often take center place in women’s liberation movement.

Continued here in part 2.

[jazy3]

Station 19 Finale Thoughts

I decided to watch the season finale of Station 19 to see if I could glean any clues as to what the original finale for this season of Grey’s Anatomy was supposed to look like before COVID-19 forced them to shut production down. I was surprised in that I didn’t find as many clues as I was expecting. I did some research and it turns out that this episode and several previous episodes of Station 19 were originally supposed to have more Grey’s content, but when they were forced to shut production down and it subsequently became clear they would not be able to film the remaining four episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, including the finale, they went back in and edited out the content that no longer made sense without the Grey’s episodes that were supposed to follow.

This helps explain why there aren’t as many clues as fans had hoped for because they edited those scenes out. As it stands, we don’t really get any more information about the characters on Grey’s that we didn’t already know. With the exception of Teddy whose comments imply that she’s looking for forgiveness from someone. I do have some thoughts though so let’s dive in. After a night of partying and drinking the Station 19 crew are called in because of an explosion at the old Pac-North hospital. Everyone is hungover except for Ben who was home with Tuck and Joey because they’re sick. Over at Grey Sloan, Sullivan undergoes surgery to try and alleviate his leg pain.

First off, was anyone else surprised to find out that Pac-North still existed? I thought the hospital was shut down and its employees absorbed into Grey Sloan? WTF? The characters go onto explain that Pac-North is only mostly closed with some departments such as admit, the ER, and radiology still operating on the first three floors. I really hope they address this next season on Grey's because I am confused. Watching Ben razz his co-workers was hilarious. I loved his line about the state they were in made him glad he had to stay home with his sick kids last night.

I loved the scenes with Amelia. I have to give Caterina, the actress who plays her, so much credit because in the last few seasons she has taken Amelia from a character I couldn’t stand to one that I love. I hated the character for a long time, but I love post-tumour Amelia. She’s so strong and she’s come such a long way. I'm glad that she's finally doing well and is mentally stable and is managing her addiction and recovery well. She deserves to be happy. I love that we got to see her using her own experience to help Sullivan with his drug addiction and Andy with her fear.

Dr. Alba, the woman who died trying to save her lymphoma research, made me cry! She wanted so badly to save her research and her specimens in order to save countless lives that even when the firefighters told her they had to evacuate she just couldn’t let it go. I cried watching her die. I’m glad the team was able to save some of her research and her mice so that her work could continue after her death. I love that they got the samples. I bet the Bomb Squad and the other Firefighters were so confused! Haha! Bunch of firefighters coming out of a compromised building with a bunch of samples looking like lab techs. My favourite line of this whole episode was when the team walked out carrying all of the samples, research, and specimens and Maya looked at them confused and said, “Why are we carrying rodents 19?” Too funny!

It was great seeing Meredith! I’ve missed seeing her on my screen. I really like Meredith and Andy's friendship. It's great to see Meredith smile and be happy and be herself again. I’m glad she was able to be there for Andy when she needed her and help give her some clarity. My heart broke for Andy in this episode. Especially when she said that the memories that had come back to her made her think that her mother was so unhappy that she killed herself. I loved Meredith’s line, "Sometimes a breakthrough can look another lot like a breakdown." I also liked that she was able to use her own experience with the memories that came back to her about her mother's pregnancy and Maggie's existence to help Andy through her pain.

Also, they have definitely added more plants to the plant room and I'm calling it. That is too many plants. WTF? That's way too many. How does the hospital have such a large budget for greenery? What the heck? I loved the scene where the police showed up and arrested Chief Dixon! He is going down! I’m so glad. Dixon’s not only corrupt, but his lack of regard for human life is just straight up dangerous. Justice!

We also get to see Maya face some hard truths. In this episode her Dad shows up and she finally sees him for who he truly is: an abuser. I thought they did a good job of showing what a powerful force denial is in the face of abuse and how abusers will change things on a dime and blame others for it to mess with them and get what they want. Maya’s Dad does this to her all episode until she finally sees it and takes action. At the beginning of the episode her shows up at the fire station wanting to talk, but she can’t talk because she’s at work and a call comes in. Then he sees her on the news so he comes to the scene. She hears him call out to her so she comes over to talk to him only for him to tell her to get back to work because he wants to see her in action.

Later on she’s in the middle of talking to the bomb squad when he starts shouting at her from behind the yellow tape. She comes over to talk to him confused and he starts yelling at her for doing her job and playing firefighter while her family is falling apart. She explains that she’s doing her job and he shouldn’t be there. He starts arguing with her and then ducks under the yellow tape and continues yelling. She tries to reason with him, but when that doesn’t work she goes into firefighter mode and tells him he’s a civilian and he needs to get back behind the tape. He screams at her that he won’t be spoken to like that and Maya tells he can either get back behind the tape or she’ll have him removed. He doesn’t move so Maya turns around to go get help and that’s when stuff gets real.

Maya’s Dad grabs her by her ponytail and attempts to assault her in broad daylight. Members of the bomb squad and other firefights see this happening and rush to her aid. They hold him back as he taunts Maya about how she needs big strong men to protect her and how he won her all of those gold medals. In a powerful moment Maya finally sees her Dad for what he is and shouts back that she won those gold medals for herself, unlike him who wins things for other people. Later back at the fire house Maya cuts off her ponytail to remove the reminder and tells Jack that she feels stupid for not seeing what everyone else could see so clearly. He tells her that’s usually how these things go. Their talk inspires her to go apologize to Carina and try to make things work.

I’m glad that Maya apologized to Carina and that they're back together! I love them! They’re so cute. Also, Teddy is standing right there telling Carina to forgive Maya if she loves her which is interesting because this episode was supposed to coincide with the Grey’s Anatomy finale. I wonder who Teddy is talking about here. Is she wishing Owen would forgive her for having an affair with Tom? Is she wishing that Tom would forgive her for sleeping with him and then trying to marry Owen? Or Both? Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait till next season whenever that may be to find out.  

And of course in true Shondaland fashion the most shocking part of all came in the last 10 minutes of the episode. When Andy went to a motel to see her Aunt Sandra and ask her some questions and we found out that her Mom was not in fact dead, but alive. I’m so confused.  My guess was going to be that Andy's parents were going to get divorced and then she died, but it looks like she's alive and well so what the heck? I might actually watch the Season 4 premiere of Station 19 in the fall just to find out what happens with Andy's Mom. Does she know Andy's Dad is dead? Why was she hiding? Was she actually sick? I have questions.

I also have a couple of theories as to how the original finale for Grey’s Anatomy was supposed to go. Clearly, they were supposed to bring the patients from the Pac-North explosion to Grey Sloan for treatment and we know from reports that the original Grey’s finale was supposed to include some kind of explosion which was supposed to take the life of a major character and critically injure several others.

So based on that I have two theories as to how the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy was supposed to go. Theory 1: The firefighters bring the patients from the Pac-North explosion to Grey Sloan for treatment. It turns out one of the people they evacuated was the bomber and that person has a bomb hidden on them that goes off in the ER. Several main characters are caught up in the explosion and the cliff hanger is you don’t know who lives and who dies. In next season’s premiere we find out that one of the main characters died and that several others were critically injured with someone possibly losing the ability to operate. The first half of the season would then showcase the doctors attending this person’s funeral and grieving the loss while working to recover from their injuries and what happened.

Theory 2: The episode starts by creating a false sense of security. The patients from the Pac-North explosion are brought to Grey Sloan for treatment which floods the ER with patients and the doctors there scramble to help everyone. Things are chaotic, but none of the characters lives are in peril until an explosion goes off in one of the upper floors. The Station 19 crew rushes to the scene and together with the bomb squad they determine that whoever set the bombs at Pac-North also planted bombs at Grey Sloan. Either because the hospital has a similar research project that uses embryonic stem cells or something similar or because the bombing was in fact personal against a doctor or researcher that worked at Pac-North and was in the process of transferring to Grey Sloan. The employees struggle to evacuate themselves and their patients and in the process several bombs go off on different floors injuring or trapping several main characters and the cliff hanger and the first half of next season would be the same.

Until next time!

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Tropey Trope Trope time. Although, when you think about it, most things are tropes and that's why they work! 😂 Reader is being forced into a marriage with someone absolutely awful, and Jaskier comes in to object and confess his feelings. (Or if you think it would be more fun the other way around and Jaskier is getting married, totally go for it. I just love wedding objection scenes. Haha)

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,474Rating: T for mild violence Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak a/n: Gotta love an objection scene! Here you goooo!

You were engaged when you met.

Jaskier had bedded women who had been married for ages without a second thought but when you told him you were engaged there was something different about it. He didn’t just want to bed you and then move on when it became too complicated to continue. He wanted more. And that alone was dangerous enough to keep him from pursuing you. He remained your friend, though, unwilling to cut you out of his life even as the day of your wedding approached. The months that seemed long away cut down so swiftly he felt certain he was cursed.

You tried to keep him from finding out who your fiancé was which he found odd. For once he wasn’t doing anything that would warrant staying away from a husband to be and yet you were as cautious about it as if he was bedding you nightly. And then he saw the two of you together on the steps of the church you would be wed in. He had an arm around you, his hand holding you tightly in please and you looked so miserable. He wasn’t ugly by any means (though Jaskier would spend hours picking apart any fault he could find or manufacture about him later) but he was loud and boarish and clutched you like you were a pheasant he’d bought at market instead of the woman he had chosen to spend his life with. When he confronted you about it later, telling you he’d seen you together, you’d broken down in tears and finally the full story came.

How much you hated the man you were being forced to marry. How he had all but blackmailed your father into making the alliance. How he delighted in your misery over the arrangement, your pain serving to heighten his pleasure. Jaskier held you as you wept and he couldn’t keep himself from asking why you didn’t just run away.

“Just isn’t a word in our vocabulary, Jaskier,” you’d explained, “We can’t just do this or that and there is rarely anyone thinking about what would be just. I’m the only child of a man whose gambling has forced us into this position. If I don’t do this, I don’t know what will happen to him.”

He knew that arguing would only add his voice to the many men in your life telling you what to do and how to feel so instead he just held you, saying nothing more about it until the day before your wedding.

“If you had a choice,” he’d asked, hating the way your face fell and the bitterness in your eyes as he said it, “What would you do?”

“I would leave,” you’d answered. And then, to the surprise of both of you, “I’d choose you.”

Convincing Geralt to crash a wedding had been harder than he’d expected.

“You can’t tell me that you don’t get involved in these affairs because I literally stood feet away from you as you interrupted a Queen’s attempt at forcing a marriage,” Jaskier had argued.

“That was different. It was unjust and she wanted me to kill the man for god’s sake,” Geralt retorted.

“This is unjust as well. Don’t do it for me, do it for Y/N. She’s being forced to marry a monster who will treat her worse than any of those oafs at that banquet would have treated Princess Pavetta. Should she suffer a fate such as this just because she isn’t a Princess? Does she deserve less?”

Jaskier’s words hung in the air and Geralt couldn’t deny that the bard was right. It was wrong, but there were many evils in the word and he couldn’t get involved in all of them.

“Look, come with me or not but I am going to that church tomorrow,” Jaskier said.

“You’ll be killed,” Geralt argued.

“I would rather die trying to help her than live a long and healthy life knowing she was suffering and I maybe, even just maybe, could have done something to prevent it,” Jaskier retorted and no matter how Geralt called to him he did not turn back.

The church was packed with strangers. Your family consisted of just you and your father who sat in the front row looking abashed as he watched his daughter stand at the altar with a man who had made no secret of how he intended to use her. The man’s family was not all bad, but none of them knew or cared how much your heart was racing or how you felt as if a noose was being slipped slowly around your neck, tightening with ever recited vow.

“If there is anyone who can provide reason that this man and this woman should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace,” the officiant recited. You held your breath, not sure what you were hoping for but hoping nonetheless.

Silence.

“Then by the power vested in me I now pronounce you –”

“STOP!”

The double doors to the church burst open, Jaskier standing in it, illuminated by the sun like an angel worthy of the stained glass surrounding you. He quickly ran down the aisle and behind him a larger man with two giant swords followed, walking slower, looking around the chapel watchfully.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Your fiancé asked.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenhove,” Jaskier introduced, as politely as if they were meeting at a party, “And I have come to bring a wedding present for the bride.”

His eyes fall to you and you’re staring at him, tears in your eyes as you try and catch up with everything that’s happening.

“What is it?” your fiancé asks, as stupid as he is cruel.

“I have brought the gift of choice,” Jaskier says, addressing the answer to you.

“Jaskier, nothing has changed. Not really. I have the same worries,” you say, a tear falling down your cheek as you push away happiness for the thousandth time. He steps up to where you stand on the altar and takes your hand in his, ignoring your fiance’s protests.

“No harm will befall your father. Isn’t that right Geralt?” Jaskier asks, calling to his friend who is still eyeing the crowd with a solemn look. He looks up at the bard and gives a smile and a slight bow to you before answering.

“Y’N’s father is under the protection of The Witcher,” he says, his voice low and husky but clear and resonant through the silent church, “If anyone harms him, they answer to me.”

You look at your father who is pale and confused but finally summons the courage he regrets not having months before.

“Go, Y/N,” he says. You turn back to Jaskier, happiness beaming in his face and yours as this nightmare is broken, and then you see the dagger. The briefest glint of steel by your fiance’s hand and you can see the arc of the blow, where it will land in Jaskier’s back, and time slows.

Jaskier sees your face turn from happiness to fear and then to anger as you shove him suddenly off the dais and launch yourself at the man you were nearly forced to marry. Your quick actions knock him off guard and you are able to topple him, the dagger falling uselessly out of read as you scratch at his face like a wildcat, months of repressed anger blinding you as you rend his face. Jaskier’s arms surround you and pull you off but before he can so much as sit up there is a sword at his throat, Geralt standing over him with a smile that could freeze flames.

“Perhaps I should have made myself clearer,” he says, “If anyone harms her father, her, or my friend, I will kill them. Slowly. With great enjoyment.”

As the three of you leave the chapel and adrenaline slowly ebbs away, doubt sets in.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Jaskier answers. You smile, squeezing the hand that holds yours, and turn to face Geralt expectantly.

“And you?” you prompt, when he does not speak, “Are you alright with this?”

“You seem resourceful and unafraid of blood. That alone makes you an improvement on some I have traveled with in the past,” Geralt answers.

“Alright. Then, here we go!” you say, finally allowing giddy relief to take over as you went your way through the village. There are many stories for years later about the wedding the witcher interrupted and the mad bride who assault her fiancé and paraded around the town with her new lover, still wearing her wedding dress. The best one, in your humble opinion, is the one Jaskier writes as you walk towards an uncertain future side by side.   

[alistonjdrake]

Of Rust and Gold: Season Two

Or more like...the beginning of my world building posts for Of Vipers and Saints (the sequel) 

My other world building posts:  1  2  3  4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Main Wip Intro here

Below you’ll find a rundown of the key figures/prominent characters of the sequel so let’s get to this, shall we?

OVS, Of Rust and Gold’s first sequel takes us back to the Escana Empire where the Harver reign faces new struggles when they’re asked to join a war on foreign soil, rebellions against their rule are sparked, and an assassination attempt threatens to tear it all apart.  Prince Argus and his ex-pirate lover Leo are finally given the chance to be together, but as the political climate gets hot even they might turn against each other.

Prince Argus: Older and (slightly) wiser, Argus has said goodbye to his party boy nature although not by choice and spends much of his time as a councilman and still pushing his nose into other people’s business and matters that go over his head. Now with fewer friends, a bigger rift between him and his cousin, and a boyfriend he spends all his money on. Lonely but still well dressed. Oh. And he proposed to Leo. 

King Cidro: King of Escan and Emperor of all her territories. Cidro’s reign is still young and he struggles to emerge from the shadow left by Frederick and to move Escan away from the history that stains them. Can be found either doting on his wife or cooing at one of three children he now has. Being a king can get busy but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get in his family time. A very nice guy but possibly not very keen of his youngest brother’s sugar baby?

Prince Leonides: With their father gone, Leonides has possibly occupied an even bigger space in court. Still striking fear and reluctant attraction into the hearts of others. Between him and the queen, sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s really pulling the strings behind the scenes but at least we can always trust Leonides to know everyone’s deepest darkest secrets. Or does he? 

Queen Liliana: Queen Consort of Escan and Empress of all her territories. After pushing out 3 kids (1 girl and twin boys) she’s moved onto other “duties”. Such as shadowing Cidro everywhere he goes and constantly whispering in his ear before he makes big decisions. What’s she saying? No one knows but no one is gonna ask either because of the resting bitch face. 

Princess Zurina: The only daughter of the late King Frederick and Argus’ oldest sister. The past couple of years have not been easy for her and she’s tired of not being included. She also thinks she’s cursed and that demons are gonna pry the empire from their hands and hates when their religious neighbors come to court.

Princess Damaris/Dame Havisa: Having pushed more of her focus onto knighthood and her work, Damaris is just one step away from leaving the Harver family entirely. After Argus, she’s been engaged several times. Luckily, nothing stuck.

Councillor Gilabert: A councilman who sits next to Argus during meetings. He’s in charge of a whole ass committee put together specifically to find Argus literally anyone else to marry as long as it’s not A. an ex-pirate and B. an ugly ex-pirate. He’s a nice guy. Ask him about his aunts.

Chancellor Harver: Or Prince Manolo. Although he took priestly vows and is technically no longer a prince. He lives and works in the holy capital of Mignola but is back to ask for a favor as war wrecks havoc throughout Codua and the most religious Santivians seem to think this is the Saints saying that something ain’t right with the world. He started growing a mustache. No one has the guts to tell him it’s not a good look. 

Prince Aayden Ponsonby: Possibly Argus’ only friend at this point. Friend, being used liberally. He still has a short temper, but now with more angst considering his father has been locked in his room for 3 years and now he has a family and legacy of his own to consider. 

Lady Cordinia ana’Gustavo Carvallo: Ex-queen, still a stepmom. Cidro put her in charge of the royal nursery. Keep as far away from Argus has possible.

Lord Enyo an’Tomas Serafin: After being dumped he’s actually been away from court for quite some time but could be tempted to come back. Or forced. Depending. 

Reverend Mother Ulrike: Mother of all Santivian nuns and here to pull Escan and Oskya into a war in Codua. It’s a messy situation but hey, some of the Harvers have a bone to pick with the Justice (religious leader) too and she’s hoping to pull them in if only because this might have a negative effect on their empire. 

Ambassador Ulmer: Oskyan Ambassador who literally will never be able to get a break. 

Hartanti Telak: King Frederick might be dead but she remains in the palace as a kindness from King Cidro. Not for any other reason. She has no other job. We swear. 

Maltoq Zamen: So...is he a prisoner? Is he a guest? Are people really still mad at him over the whole “almost fed Argus to a living god” thing? Wow. Get over yourselves. Oh. Also the figurehead ruler of Theassau, one of many territories controlled by Escan. He’s been held in Graza Palace for some time now. 

Marcel: A man traveling with Mother Ulrike because he sought help after fleeing religious persecution caused by the wars in Codua. Certainly not a con artist and definitely not someone Leo recognizes.  

Leo Dianglo: Still grumpy, still drinks a bit too much, and still would rather not talk about it. All he wants to do is put his life of crime behind him (or does he?) and spend some well-deserved time with the man he loves but it’s hard when literally no one in Graza wants him there and he’s constantly being pushed in different directions. Not to mention being the guardian of two teenage boys have put him in more troubling scenarios than he ever signed up for. At least now he’s the captain of his own ship and what he does is totally LEGAL.

Mel: Angst-riddled teenager, definitely cursed, and struggling to understand something no one can really explain to him. With his dad still on the run, people keep coming to him for answers he doesn’t have. But worse yet, they’re trying to teach him things. 

Mung: Pirate orphan #2. When he’s not threatening to murder Mel, he’s also spending way more time with him than he’d like to admit. Sure, Mung is definitely hiding something but he also slouches too much. Let’s pay attention to that instead.

Officer Gerwin: Commander of Escan’s Knights. He’s never having a good day.

Sir Erasmus: Knight elected to keep an eye on Leo and his wards to watch for any illegal activity.  

Tarley Vilardi: A Fate (solider of the Saints) who survived the night all hell broke loose in the holy city. An ex-lover of the now-dead Niels Dursten and blames a certain Harver for it. 

Lady Ludovica: A woman living in Mignola with her children and a distant relative to Mother Ulrike. Might speak up in a case against the Harvers because another one stopped writing her back after their affair. 

Duchess Benedetta Onesta Cassiopeia de ave Astorino: Yes. You have to say her whole name. She’s young and the daughter of a warlord who had a dedicated following, as such she’s been raised as a soldier and her men would die for her. And that’s likely why she’s been waging war in Codua since she was 10. But recently she’s gotten more ambitious and that can’t have anything to do with the fact that her uncle is Justice and hoping to build an empire of his own? In the process of trying to work out an engagement with someone that would give her land on Escana soil and no one wants her to step foot out of Codua. 

Justice Zisa: Well polite in manners he’s known to be quite ambitious and selective when it comes to telling people his intentions. Is he putting any effort into stopping his bloodthirsty niece or is he party to the destruction she’s causing?

Wiara: A girl Leo found in a shipwreck. She claims to be a princess but she was also smelled like blood magic and no one is really sure how she ended up there or what she wants. 

Sister Rosalie Pélissier: Working in the Kallenbach household, a Kellish nun working out the terms of engagement between Lord Gaius Kallenbach, one of the last of the Kellish nobility, and Duchess Benedetta. She also has some radical ideas about the Saints and could possibly be tempted to guide someone else who isn’t a warlord if they’re willing to listen/bring the change she believes the world needs.

Lady Philomené Kallenbach: One of the last of the Kellish nobility. At one point she was engaged to Argus and at another was the symbol for the last Kellish rebellion against the Escana Empire. She and Sister Rosalie are very close.

Lord Gaius Kallenbach: Phil’s younger brother. Might marry Duchess Benedetta and invite her onto Escana soil.  

Lord Elas an’Rodro Barraza: The rivalry between the Barrazas and Harvers goes back to the beginning of Frederick’s reign. There’s a lot of bad blood but current events invite the Barraza family to Graza for a celebration and surely an old man with a grudge is no worse than all the other threats surrounding them. 

Tamune: The living god in the cells deep within Alda. 

 An Assassin: Someone tried to kill a Harver. The question is who?

[khataabehangel]

yasser aldurra

If you are reading this, it is because you searched the name, “Yasser Aldurra” in order to get to know him better. You want to dig up some dirt on him to see if he’s really the “good guy” that he claims to be. I am here to tell you, that if he asks for you, stay the hell away from him at all costs.

If you are here because you are searching for him as a doctor, I don’t know anything about that. I have no idea how he is as a physician. This post is strictly about him as a romantic partner. You won't find any reviews for him here so move along; this isn't for you.

For everyone else who is here because he asked for you for marriage... let me introduce myself. I am someone that met him for just a few days. We spoke to each other with the intention to get married. I have never bashed anyone after getting to know them, but he is such a liar and a bad person, that I felt like it is my duty to warn girls about him. Most of this stuff I picked up on because he never shuts up and he accidentally revealed too much about himself without realizing it. The rest I found out after things ended between us. When I first met him, I really thought that he was perfect, and I couldn't find anything wrong with him. Let’s just say that I was very wrong about that....

Here are some takeaway points if you don’t want to read this entire post:

he has actual narcissistic personality disorder and ALL the characteristics associated with that disorder

He’s insanely cheap and has lied about how much he makes (even if you don’t ask)

he’s a liar

he’s a liar

he’s a liar

everything he tells you is a lie.even things that don’t seem like lies, are lies. don’t believe anything he says. he twists the truth and gives half-truths to make things seem more plausible and believable even though they are lies.

HE NEVER SHUTS UP. HE TALKS SO MUCH AND HE’LL NEVER LET YOU GET A WORD IN

he’s manipulative

his “deen” is so incredibly flawed, and it is not the correct Islam that me and you follow.

he sees women as being inferior to men, and that men should control women and be the person in charge of the relationship. That men have the final say in all matters and that their opinion is more valid than the woman’s.

He’s able to fake being a certain way until he gets comfortable enough to reveal his true self that he hides behind his façade 

he has no friends.

HES A GUY WITH NO FRIENDS. HOW MANY GUYS DO YOU KNOW THAT DONT HAVE ANY FRIENDS?! I don’t freaking know any! he’s so intolerable that even guys don’t like being around him.

has no social skills

easily offended by EVERYTHING

his ego is as fragile as glasshe does not fight fair. if he gets hurt by something that you said, even if it was unintentional, he will say something exponentially more hurtful back to you as a defense mechanism. it’s not healthy.

he will never answer your questions directly. 

he will rush you to get married. he’ll use his age as the reason, but it’s really so that he traps you before you realize how trash he actually is.

he doesn't understand how to pace a relationship and will talk to you as if you've been together for years even if it’s just been a few days. He will rush you to move things forward even though you just met. When you refuse or say you need more time, he will try to make you feel guilty about it.

He constantly plays the role of the victim

He will try to make you feel sorry for him as a way to constantly control you and make things your fault, even when you’ve done nothing wrong.

He’s ridiculously controlling

he’s disrespectful as hell, and will even be disrespectful to your parents and your family

he doesn't understand boundaries or when to stop doing something, even if you ask him directly.

he is extremely blunt and hurtful

his expectations for marriage are unrealistic and unachievable. the girl he’s looking for doesn't exist in this century

he’s been through some traumatic things in his life that he’s never gotten past and it has heavily influenced how he is today. He needs some serious therapy, but ironically he’ll never get it because he thinks he’s perfect and doesn’t see anything wrong with himself.

he is childish and immature, even at 36 years old.

his mom. he worships her. their relationship is SO weird. he will tell his mom about everything that you have talked about.his mom expects to live with him in the future

even though he lives alone, he never took the time to teach himself how to cook

he cannot care for himself at any capacity and expects other people to do it for him. 

He is racist

he has a hard time understanding new things that he is unfamiliar with. even things that are common sense, he struggles with. 

he will belittle you and your knowledge, to make himself feel better about not understanding something. He will also go into an insane level of detail about a random topic, and when you change the subject, he goes back to it. If you ask him to move on from it, he won’t 

He will control every conversation that you will ever have. He will do it slowly, and you won’t realize it until one day when you get a text from him, and you become disgusted with the idea of talking to him.

He is extremely opinionated, and any opinion that you have that disagrees with his beliefs, he will argue about it with you forever. 

He says everything that he is thinking, no matter how inappropriate it is. 

He has no filter. Although he lies like crazy about his past and his flaws, he is extremely honest about his expectations and how he wants you to treat him. This normally would be a good thing, except for the fact that he expects to be treated like some sort of god. 

he’s insanely judgmental and not understanding. Anything that you share about yourself will somehow get thrown back in your face and used against you.

Gets angry at the stupidest, smallest things and will make things into a bigger deal than they actually need to be

He gets mad very quickly, and he doesn’t forgive or forget easily. You basically have to kiss his ass for him to forgive you for the “thing” that you did “wrong”, which is usually something stupid. He does this as a way to gaslight and control you.He will create issues out of thin air just to control your behavior and how you treat him.

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

Yeah......................... you should run for the hills. Do me a favor though and don’t tell him about this post. just say that you are not interested without giving a reason.

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

First of all, he is not as religious as he claims to be. 

He claims to have memorized a large part of the Quran and he knows countless ahadeeth, but in reality, he only knows enough to quote it out of context to make whatever backwards argument that he is trying to make seem valid. He will use religion as the main source to back up all of his very twisted, and extremely unIslamic beliefs. He also uses it as a shield to defend himself in almost every situation. He also misquotes the ayah in surah an-nissa to convince you that men are supposed to control women, even though that’s not what that ayah means. He bends ayahs and takes them out of context just so he can use a strong source like the Quran to back up his weird, and twisted beliefs that have nothing to do with what the Quran is ACTUALLY saying (because he’s taking things out of context and interpreting them how he likes). Also, he mostly uses this to sell you the idea that he’s “a good guy”. Do not buy it. Do. not. buy. it. it is a lie. People that are actually religious do not do the things that he does or twist Islam to suit them. Islam gives clear instruction to men that they are the CAREGIVERS of woman. They are responsible for taking care of them, for spending on them, and for the other responsibilities that the girl’s parents had before she married that guy. They are not the “controllers” of women. Instead, they should be the leaders in the relationship because they have a bigger responsibility.

Secondly, and more importantly, he is a complete liar and this stems from the fact that he is a narcissist. I do not say this lightly. If you look up the DSM-5 definition of it, he fits the criteria perfectly. What is narcissism?

Narcissistic personality disorder — one of several types of personality disorders — is a mental condition in which people have an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, troubled relationships, and a lack of empathy for others. But behind this mask of extreme confidence lies a fragile self-esteem that's vulnerable to the slightest criticism.

A narcissistic personality disorder causes problems in many areas of life, such as relationships, work, school or financial affairs. People with narcissistic personality disorder may be generally unhappy and disappointed when they're not given the special favors or admiration they believe they deserve. They may find their relationships unfulfilling, and others may not enjoy being around them.

Signs and symptoms of narcissistic personality disorder

People with the disorder can:

Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

Exaggerate achievements and talents

Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

Monopolize conversations and belittle or look down on people they perceive as inferior

Expect special favors and unquestioning compliance with their expectations

Take advantage of others to get what they want

Have an inability or unwillingness to recognize the needs and feelings of others

Be envious of others and believe others envy them

Behave in an arrogant or haughty manner, coming across as conceited, boastful and pretentious

Insist on having the best of everything — for instance, the best car or office

At the same time, people with narcissistic personality disorder have trouble handling anything they perceive as criticism, and they can:

Become impatient or angry when they don't receive special treatment

Have significant interpersonal problems and easily feel slighted

React with rage or contempt and try to belittle the other person to make themselves appear superior

Have difficulty regulating emotions and behavior

Experience major problems dealing with stress and adapting to change

Feel depressed and moody because they fall short of perfection

Have secret feelings of insecurity, shame, vulnerability and humiliation

There’s a lot to unpack here. I know it’s a lot, but if you’re still reading this, it’s probably because 1) you are Yasser (hi!) you are so full of yourself that you googled yourself and got here or 2) you were actually considering moving forward with this guy, but you are now concerned (as you should be).

Let’s start with the inflated sense of their own importance.

He will talk about his achievements for hours if you let him. In general, he never shuts up or gives you the chance to speak. He has exaggerated so many of his achievements. The one most memorable to me was the fact that he claimed to have “two board certifications, and two specialties”. like... okay.... most doctors who have a specialty also are board certified in internal medicine... you're not special. He talks so much about how “hard” he worked to get to where he is today as if the people around him are just sitting on their asses doing nothing. He bragged forever about all the places that offered him a fellowship.. which ironically were only a handful. I did not feel like he was being honest about his job offers at all. and if he was, then he’s a complete dumbass for turning them down because the offer he ended up choosing was apparently a lot worse, according to him. so, he’s either a liar, or a dumbass... or both.

on that note: he would frequently bring up the topic of money and he overemphasized how “little” money he makes. Apparently, this is because he did not want people to take advantage of him, including the person he’s getting to know for freaking marriage. any idiot on the street will tell you that a doctor in this country, that has a specialty, and is working in a private practice makes well over $250-$350k MINIMUM. He kept saying how little money he made even though I never asked him about it or even mentioned it. Everything that he told me regarding the topic of money revolved around an idea from the Quran that is taken completely out of context: “a person who overspends is the friend of the devil” (misquoting the Quran and failing to mention the next ayah on how God does not like people who are excessively stingy).

He set an exact budget on how much money he thinks is okay to spend on certain items like cars, shoes, shirts, electronics, and even things like the heating bill. He made it clear which stores he likes to shop at (they were stores like kohl's and jc penny). It’s fine to have a budget and be smart with your money. But it’s not fine to ask the girl that you are getting to know how many shoes she owns, what stores she buys her clothes from, and then blatantly tell her that the places she shops are “too expensive” for him and that she can get clothes from Kohl’s and JC Penny like him. She can shop wherever the hell she wants to shop and spend however much she wants to spend. She didn’t get those things by using your wallet. You are just getting to know each other. Chill the fuck out. Just because he has a specific budget for how much he thinks it’s okay to spend on things, we weren’t even together, and he was already controlling and judging me for my spending habits. And just to be clear, I don’t even shop frequently, or at stores that are absurdly overpriced.  To hide the fact that he is so cheap, he then said “I don’t want you to think that I’m cheap. I donate a lot of my money to people in need.” A person who is not cheap doesn't need to say that they are not cheap.

For someone who speaks so highly of his achievements and success, it’s surprising that he constantly talks about how poor he is and how little money he spends.

I think we should talk about his biggest lie: what occurred in his past relationship.

Everything that he says is a lie, or some sort of twisted version of the truth. When I met him, he told me that he was divorced, which is true. But he made out his ex to be the shittiest person imaginable. He claimed that she was a “narcissist” (wow, projecting much?!). He also told me that he was the one who decided to end things with her, and that he “tried so hard to make it work but she was just very stubborn, controlling, and made him fear being around her.” He “didn’t feel safe around her.” When I asked him to clarify what he meant by that, he didn’t elaborate. It sounded like he was taking the words of his ex and using them to play the victim.

she apparently also wasn't there for him emotionally (which is imo impossible because he’s soooooooo goddamn needy, I can’t even imagine anyone even being able to fulfill this to be honest). He said that she didn’t pray, and he somehow didn’t pick up on this during their engagement!?! what a lie. whenever he would mention his engagement with her and all the “red flags” that he missed, he would always say, “I only blame myself, I’m dumb” trying to play the victim. worst of all.... he said that they were together only 6 months. Later on, I found out that they were together for TWO YEARS. I don’t know how the hell she managed to stay with his needy, controlling ass for 2 years, but may God reward her for what she endured. I couldn’t talk to him for more than a few days, I can’t imagine being with him for a few years. He bragged about how he paid her whatever was left of her mahr (dowry) and the class that she took when they ended things. He made it seem like his ex came from a very humble and simple family that was not very well-off financially, and that her dowry was A LOT.

I also found out that he was CRAZY controlling. His ex was apparently a super white and beautiful blonde. If they were in public and her sleeve came up a little to reveal her wrist, he would lose his shit. He was unbelievably jealous.

When they were signing the papers to get married, her parents, (who I found out later from someone.. are actually insanely well-off because her dad is a successful af businessman), didn’t ask for any mahr (dowry) because they trusted that his career as a physician is promising and that he would take care of their daughter. The person writing the papers said that they had to put down a number, because Islamically, it is the right of the girl to receive a gift from her new husband. So, someone in the room suggested $5,000. Not only did he agree to this ridiculously low number, but never even offered more when it was suggested. He just accepted it and moved on because he’s so cheap. Just for some perspective, I know that mahr can start anywhere from $10K-$15 and be as high as $50-$100K depending on how well off the guy is. This guy is a freaking doctor which means he makes that in like a week or so... Even as a resident or a fellow, that’s pocket change.

anyway. Her father got her a freaking brand-new Audi as a wedding gift, and her new husband gave her the promise of $5,000 after they get married... LOL.

so, when he was “bragging” about paying off her dowry when they ended things, I really thought it was a huge sum of money. it wasn't.

How he deals with his finances is really none of my business. I only mentioned it here because he would constantly mention it and emphasize that he didn’t want anyone (including his future wife) to take advantage of him. I could care less about how much money he makes because even though I never told him this (mostly because he never shuts up and I never got the chance to tell him about it), I am independently wealthy from a business that I opened up a few years ago. I am completely financially independent from my parents.

Although I never cared about his finances at ALL, it’s important to know that in Islam, a husband MUST spend on his wife. He MUST treat her well. and he MUST care for her and her finances. It’s his duty. Whatever money she makes, belongs to her. And whatever she wants to spend or save, is up to her. She can work full-time and save every penny that she has if she wants, WHILE HE SPENDS ON HER. She doesn't have to give him a cent of the money she makes (unless she wants to). AND even if she is working and she makes her own money HE STILL has to spend on her, and on the things that she needs while she saves her money or spends her money in the way that she wants. In Islam the husband MUST SPEND ON HIS WIFE. AND SHE CAN CHOOSE TO WORK AND SAVE HER MONEY IF SHE WANTS. AND IF SHE DOESN’T WANT TO WORK, SHE HAS THAT OPTION, AND HE STILL HAS TO SPEND ON HER. WHETHER SHE WORKS OR NOT, HE HAS TO SPEND ON HER. anyway. that’s why I mentioned it. I don’t care about it, I just listed it just in case anyone that’s reading this does care about it so that they know what they're getting into. Go back and read the symptoms of narcissism that I included above. It literally mentions that people with this disorder have issues with their money. This has absolutely nothing to do with Islam, and everything to do with him and his condition. He just uses Islam to back up his twisted viewpoints by misquoting things and taking them out of context.

And Islamically, just so you know, God does not like those who are cheap with their wealth. He loves those that are generous with the money that He blessed them with. And He loves those that spend on their families. Those that have wealth and are able to afford more, are expected to spend more on mahr when they get married. THAT’S what the Quran says in surah baqara at the end of the second juz when the topic of marriage, engagement, and divorced are mentioned. So even if he was using Islam as an excuse to protect his money from his wife, he’s literally wrong and it doesn’t say that anywhere. In fact, in a hadith, it is mentioned that if someone’s husband is not spending enough on her and her kids to take care of them, she is allowed to take whatever money she needs from him without his knowledge or his permission.

His past relationship tells you everything you really need to know about him. For example, everything that he complained about his ex, were things that he does. He uses the exact character flaws in him that ended his marriage as being the character flaws that his ex had. For example, he is clearly a narcissist. You can pick up on this up within just a few conversations with him. Yet, he claimed that his wife was a narcissist, and she has all of the negative characteristics of one.

He claimed that she was controlling in the relationship, yet he has extreme controlling behavior. If I didn’t talk to him or give him attention for an entire day because I was at work, he would lose his shit. He would be passive aggressive then progressively more and more aggressive until I asked him what was wrong. Then he would lash out at me as if we’ve been in a relationship for years and I did something majorly wrong, even though I didn’t. Every free moment that I had was apparently to be dedicated only to him. If I wanted to go out and I mentioned that I was leaving my house, he would start a fight just so that I could stay home and “fix” things with him. Let me remind you that I only spoke to him for a few days..... we were not a couple at any capacity, so he had no right to do this. It was extremely manipulative behavior. I was constantly gaslighted by him. I would find myself apologizing to him very frequently, and most of the time I didn’t even know why. Everything that I said to him was offensive, even though it really wasn't. For example, I mentioned the word “FOB” once to describe someone, and he was so offended by it, even though it wasn't directed at him and I didn’t say it in a derogatory manner.

Back to his ex. He claimed that she never prayed and that this was the main cause of him wanting to end things... but the entire time that I was with him, he never mentioned how frequently he prays, even when I asked him about it directly. He claimed to be super religious, but I never saw that in his worship at all (but also, only God knows that so I can’t judge him for that.. I’m just saying what I noticed). He didn’t really make time for extra ibada. Which would be totally fine if he didn’t try so hard to sell himself as being “good and religious.” The entire time we spoke he kept saying how he was religious and how he wanted a religious wife. I also never saw that in his character. I never saw that with how he spoke to and about others. He looked down on everyone that wasn't from the same background as him or had the same education as himself. He was very disrespectful of others. I found that it mostly stems from his ignorance and intolerance of other cultures.

He said some really disturbing things about immigrants coming here and mooching off of the system. That they are basically living off of the taxes that he pays. Even though he is an immigrant himself, he didn’t believe that they deserve the same opportunities and chances that he got. He firmly believed that everything he has now was earned by him, and that he worked hard for it. It never crossed his mind that he was given a chance by people who stood up and fought for those rights and opportunities for immigrants. He always saw himself as someone who was “self-made.” He was extremely oblivious to the fact that he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did, had it not been for those same opportunities that he didn’t think the other immigrants deserve. He was very arrogant.

His social interactions:

I heard from someone this crazy story about a girl he was getting to know:

He suggested that she and he go out to some restaurant to eat. After they finished dinner, he INSISTED that they get dessert. She said she was full, and she wasn’t interested in getting anything, but he kept insisting over and over until she finally said yes. She chose a brownie or something that she liked. And he didn't freaking order anything. He suggested that they share because she needs to be watching what she eats. Apparently what she chose was too many calories for her or something.

SHE DIDNT EVEN WANT DESSERT IN THE FIRST PLACE. AND WHEN SHE GOT IT YOU TOLD HER IT WAS TOO MANY CALORIES FOR HER!? It boggles my mind how hypocritical he is. Everything he says and does is carefully planned so that he can tear down someone’s self-esteem and self-worth just to make himself seem better. I interpreted this story as him being too cheap to get two desserts. He obviously wanted something, and he wanted to overcompensate for his cheapness by insisting that she gets something so she thinks that he’s doing this out of generosity. This way, he only has to pay for one dessert because he can suggest later that they share it. Also, the fact that she ordered what she wanted makes it seem like she's in control of the situation, but then he gaslights her. In order to get her half of the dessert, he can’t just ask to share. Instead, he uses it as an opportunity to take a jab at her self-esteem so that she questions herself. It’s actually kind of complex for someone as stupid as him. He’s crazy manipulative and controlling like that. It’s the only way he knows how to interact with people, really.

When I asked him about people in his community and the friends he has there, he was EXTREMELY defensive. This was honestly the biggest red flag for me. I asked because if we were to get married, I have to move to where he is, because he refused to move to where I am. I wanted to make sure that there is some sort of community around us that we can interact with. I wanted to know if I could build new friendships and relationships with people there. AND I wanted to know how likable he is, because from everything I saw in the few days that we spoke, he was very intolerable. I wanted to know if it was because he was always like that or if something was going on with him. I think it is a pretty fair way to gauge someone’s general demeanor. Everyone I know has AT LEAST one friend. People that don’t have friends usually don’t for a reason. Either they keep their distance from others, or others have a reason to keep their distance from them. In most cases, it’s a red flag about that person. But in some circumstances, it’s really not that person’s fault and there is nothing specifically wrong with them. So, I had to make sure for myself.

If a guy has no friends, he will automatically expect you to spend all of your time with him. He won't understand or accept you casually going out with the girls or having them come over. Also, in general, guys don’t have as much drama as girls. Even if a guy is a complete scumbag, other guys will find something about him that they like, and they will generally get along. That’s just how guys are. They're all chill with each other, even if they don’t know each other well, or at all.

So, when I asked him this question and he got extremely defensive, I knew something was wrong. He claimed that the guys by him didn’t invite him anywhere because he isn't married. Everyone in his community is apparently married, and according to him, he was outcasted because of his relationship status. ...which doesn't make any sense. I’ve never heard of this being an issue for anyone, guy or girl. At least in my community, single guys and girls all get invited to married-people events. I know this, because I get invited to those events.

Basically, he has no friends. He doesn't even keep in touch with his old roommates or classmates. He doesn't really talk to his sisters either. That’s why this question was so triggering and offensive. Even though it’s not an offensive question at all. “tell me about the community there and your friends.” Literally nothing wrong with it...

He’s a loser. I hate to say this, but he really is.

The only person that he talks to every day is his mom. And to be honest, she's not the best role model for him. That leads me to my next major point.

His mom

She basically made up a very elaborate fabricated story about her and her son and how she hasn't been able to find him a wife for some fake reason. It was a complete sob story told to a rishta auntie so that she can hook him up with some girls. Every part of that story was fake and was told in a specific way to shift blame from the trash that is her son and to also to instill empathy for them. If she got your number, most likely this is how she did it.

The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree. She’s just as much as a liar as her son, if not more. I wouldn't be surprised if she taught him all of the manipulative things that he says and does as well as all the lies that he spews.

That’s not even why I mentioned her. The main issue you need to be concerned about is the fact that he’s in his freaking late thirties and she still has complete control over him. Their relationship is not healthy at all. Because she is the only person that he talks to, he tells her everything. And I really do mean everything, without any exaggeration.

Absolutely nothing off limits for what he shares with her, including private conversations with you. He will share EVERYTHING with his mom, no matter how personal it is and no matter how much you ask him to keep it to himself. and if it is something bad, he will use it against you later on and make you feel bad about it and judge you for it. everything that you have shared about yourself with him in private, he has already told his mom about. They have already discussed it, and they have already made the decision on whether or not they want to blow it out of proportion.

If what you shared about yourself or your life interferes, in anyway, with the plan that they have in mind for him... your issue will be exposed. For example, if you want to wait a year or two before having kids, this interferes with his plan to have kids immediately after marriage. HE WILL NOT TALK TO YOU ABOUT THIS DIRECTLY. Instead, he will act like he is 100% okay with it and seem completely supportive of your decision. If you ask if he has a problem with it, he will lie and say no. Then after you hang up, he will call his mom immediately afterward, then tell her everything that you told him. THEN she won't even call your mom to complain... she will first call the rishta auntie that gave them your moms number and ASK ABOUT YOU even if the lady doesn't know you. The thing that you shared with him in private, and he said he was okay with, has now reached two other people without your knowledge. After his mom talks to the rishta auntie and tells her about this “world-ending issue” that has come to light...that lady will tell her that she doesn't even know you well enough to give any advice (about something that’s not her freaking business). then she’ll tell his stupid mom to take it up with your mom. So, within 20 hours of talking to him about a private matter that you both seemingly clearly agreed on... your mom will get a phone call from his complaining about it and how that’s not what he wants.

This “guy” is so emasculated by his mother, that he can’t even stand up for himself. It’s so pathetic. She has to speak on his behalf.

Sometimes it is okay for parents to step in because they handle sensitive situations more delicately and in an eloquent way. But for him, EVERYTHING was a sensitive situation, and he didn’t know how to handle any of it on his own. the worst part is that his mom is a complete bitch. She was SO rude when she was speaking to my mom. She was unnecessarily aggressive in her speech and in her tone. Like if she was at least able to handle things like a normal person, it would've been acceptable. But she was literally this biggest bitch I've ever met. I’ve never had a guy’s mom talk to mine in such rude way. It’s no wonder why he acts like such a baby, why everything offends him, and why he expects everything to go his way all the time. They literally think that just because he’s a doctor, that he needs to be worshipped and that the world revolves around him.

This happened several times when I was getting to know him during those few days. I eventually learned that there are absolutely secrets between them. Everything you tell him will reach his mom, and she will share it with the third party that got you guys in touch. I’m honestly not surprised that he shared everything I told him with her. It actually makes perfect sense.

You must understand that they have a very weird relationship for a reason. You are not just going to marry him... you are also marrying his mom. That’s one of the reasons that she has to know you so well. One of his conditions is that you have to be okay with her living with you guys. He is adamant about this. He has a room for her in his place for when she comes to visit, but she's planning on moving in permanently. But yea, his mom has fully reinforced his toxic behavior and expectations. It’s perfectly okay to live with your spouse’s parents. But it’s not okay for them to learn everything about you, and for you to not have any privacy with your spouse. I blame his trash character on her and her Karen-ness.

On that note..

His trash character

If he hasn't shown this to you yet, because he is still on his “fake” persona that he puts up early in the relationship.. then heed my warning. Strap yourself in for the hell that you are about to experience (or have already experienced).

Expect him in the beginning to “love-bomb” you. meaning, he will overly praise and admire you all the time. He will put u on a pedestal and tell you that you are the best person in the world. that if he ends up with you he will be the luckiest guy ever. You are perfect in every way, and everything that you have done is a huge achievement (even if it’s something basic). He will list out all of the things that he loves and adores in you. this will come literally the second time you talk lol. He’ll act crazy obsessed with you.

BUT..... he is ONLY doing this because 1 of 2 things are about to happen. The first is that he is craving for you to admire him in a similar manner. He is literally teaching you how he wants you to praise him (all the time btw). He wants you to compliment him back. Everything that he said is straight up just him fishing for a compliment. Don’t give him one. You don’t need to. Just general advice: you don’t owe a guy anything for what he does. If you want to compliment him on something you genuinely like, go for it. But NEVER feel obligated to compliment a guy just because he complimented you. It’s okay to just say “thank you” and accept it.

The second, is actually really scary. This is a tactic that narcissists used when trying to trap someone. Remember the term I used earlier, love-bombing? Well, this is actually a tactic that narcissists use in their cycle of abuse. It’s not healthy to have such strong feelings towards someone you just met. But that’s how he’ll talk to you. If you want to learn more about what I’m talking about, read this article to get a better idea: https://www.healthline.com/health/love-bombing#soulmate-claims

Eventually he will start gaslighting you. Making you question yourself. making you feel like everything that you say and do is offensive to him. You will start apologizing to him for stupid things.

Out of all the lies that he told, he was ironically very honest about his uncontrollable anger. He gets angry, UNBELIEVABLY quickly and about EVERYTHING. If something goes wrong, it is the end of the world for him. He lashes out immediately, in a very rude and disrespectful way (...does this remind you of someone........? if you said his mom, good job!). Just like a bratty little kid lashes out disrespectfully at people around them when they don’t get their way... this guy is the same way. If he is “offended” by something... which is literally everything. Everything that freaking offends him.. he lashes out. If it is an issue that deals directly with his future with you, and his bratty behavior is not applicable, that’s when his mom is involved.

Yasser, if you are reading this, please grow the fuck up. you are in your late thirties, stop acting like a prepubescent dickless little boy who's balls haven't dropped. You are a grown ass man, act like it. Real men don’t have their moms listening in on every conversation, fighting their every battle, and being their only friend. Real men deal with their issues in a calm and respectful way, not by disrespecting the other person, projecting their issues onto them, and purposefully saying something mean to hurt them because they apparently hurt you. grow the fuck up.

You need therapy to deal with your mommy and daddy issues. You need therapy to deal with your textbook case of narcissism. you need therapy so that you can stop being such a shitty person so that maybe one day, someone other than your mom will love you.

I’m glad I met you, because you were the absolute worst person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Now I know exactly what to avoid with future guys that I meet, and I also have the comfort of knowing that no one will ever be as horrible as you.

If you don’t plan on bettering yourself after seeing this, I hope that if you do get married that you end up with someone who deserves you because they are just as shitty as you. I hope they take advantage of you and the money you keep hoarding. I hope they lie to you about everything in their life and in their past, and you don’t find out until it’s too late and you can’t leave or end things. I hope that they use your vulnerabilities against you. I hope that they disrespect you and belittle you. I hope that they are able to control you in every aspect of your life. I hope they are able to deal with your psychotic mother in a way that hurts you. I hope you are emasculated in your own marriage, and that your wife wears the pants in the relationship. I hope she makes decisions without you, and I hope it drives you crazy.

I hope your ex-wife got remarried to someone who actually deserves her and appreciates her. I hope their relationship is happy. I hope that her happiness with her new husband makes you completely miserable because you lied about how horrible she was and you abused her.

You lied about and exaggerated the things that I said to you in private and exposed me. I hope that you are exposed to everyone, just like you exposed me and my secrets. You may have told lies and exaggerations about me, but I’m telling the truth about you. Everything you said about me is nothing to be ashamed of. But everything about you is disgusting and shameful. You’re lucky that I didn’t go into more detail about how horrible you are, and the outrageous things that you said and did. This was in no way revenge. I could care less about you or getting back at you. I wrote this because I hope that every girl that meets you finds this post and heeds my warning about you and they are protected from you, your mom, and both of your evil. It’s a shame, that you have so much potential to be a good person, but you choose to be this way. I feel bad for you.

If you are a girl that met this fool and you want to share your experience, feel free to make an account if you don’t already have one and share with us. I genuinely hope that this post helps someone. I would love to know that it has. Leave me a message if this helped you in any way, even if it does not relate to him directly. Please don’t send him any hate on my behalf, that’s not the intention of this at all. I would prefer if he doesn’t see this, so don’t send this to him if you know him. If he does find it on his own, that’s on him.

If you are someone who is in a relationship with a guy or a girl you suspect has narcissistic personality disorder, please leave that relationship asap. It is not healthy for you. They will traumatize you and leave a lasting impact on what you’ll expect your future relationships to look like. You deserve better. Even if you don’t think that you do, YOU DESERVE BETTER. Leave. It’s better to be single than to be with this type of person.

[yougottalovegameofthrones]

Almost Home Pt. 7 (Robb Stark x Reader)

A/N: Wowza, this one ended up being longer than I thought! But it’s pretty angsty, so get ready. XD  Thanks for reading!

-M <3

----

I never knew how much love could hurt, until it finally did.  Every morning and every night that past following that dreadful encounter were bitter and painful. I could only wish that I had the sanctuary that I found in sleep.

At first, it seemed that Robb Stark felt the same pain as I did.  We saw each other nearly every day, and whenever our eyes met, the sense of loss lingered between us. His lips parted to speak, but I always found an excuse to leave before the words could be heard. My heart always told me to go back… go back to him and apologize for rejecting him so harshly a few weeks previous. 
But I didn’t.

In nearly every moment except for when I was in my chambers, I knew that Catelyn Stark was watching, whether if it was through her own eyes or through one of the many people working around Robb and I.

If we were to be caught together again… my life would be over. And although my life was not much at this moment in time, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing it to… that ogre, Ser Larris Smallwood.  Who knew what he would do to me before he ended it all?

With the potential dangers that came with even talking to Robb, I couldn’t risk it. And as much as my heart hurt for watching his face fall every time I said I had to leave,  it was for the best. He would find happiness again… in someone who truly deserved it.

“Y/N, once you finish starting the bath, would you please come join me out here?” Catelyn Stark called from her perch on the balcony, her voice almost humorous as the words left her lips.

“Yes, my Lady.”  I finished what she required before walking to stand by her side. “What is it?”

“I want you to look down there, and tell me what you see.”

My eyes followed her extended hand, and my heart began to ache at the sight of Robb down bellow, laughing with a group of men. “My Lady, I thought you didn’t want-“

“I asked you to look.” Her tone was more clipped. “Look again.” 
When my eyes fell back to the group of men bellow, I noticed that a maiden was now amongst them. Her hair was long and tied back into a braid, her dress covering her body modestly, and the charming smile on her face drawing all of the men in… and from the looks of it, she seemed to be catching Robb’s attention as well.

If my heart had been hurting before, it was nothing compared to how it was feeling now. Shattered, crushed, split in two. A lump grew in my throat as I watched the woman approach Robb and begin to speak with him, her hand moving to rest on his arm before slowly moving up to his chest.

“Her name is Lady Lylian Wythers.” Catelyn Stark’s voice commented quietly, but contently. “I have a feeling that she will make my son very happy.”

My body frozen in place, unable to move as I watched Lady Lylian draw closer to Robb, eventually leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips.  My head began to spin, my eyes growing blurry with tears that I so desperately wanted to shed, and my hands began to shake.

After a few moments, Robb pulled away from the kiss and looked up towards where Catelyn and I stood. His face went slightly pale and he began to move towards where we were, but his mother grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back into the confines of her room.

“He may of thought that he found his happiness in you…” She whispered in my ear, her grip on my arm tightening. “But it turns out that any young woman can make a King happy.” She let me go. “Off to bed.”

I slipped out of her room and walked down the hall, praying to the Gods that I would not encounter Robb Stark in the way. Another hand grasped onto my arm and pulled me to the side, causing me to gasp. I came face to face with none other than the King of the North.

“What is it with you Starks about pulling people around by their limbs?” I snapped, yanking myself free from his grip.

“Y/N….” His voice was soft, as if he was afraid to break me with his words.

“What?!” At that point, the idea that I was talking to the King of the North did not matter. I was angry. No, I was beyond angry. I was devastated, and it would take more than a few kisses and gentle words to heal this wound.

“I didn’t know you were there.” Robb’s eyes were lit with remorse, and I had to restrain myself from feeling sympathy for him at this moment.

“So you would’ve kissed her if I wasn’t there, then?”

“I didn’t want-“

“Do not give me that load of bullshit, Robb Stark.” Judging by the surprised expression on his face, I don’t think he knew I had the confidence to say that sentence to his face. “You seemed perfectly content with having a pretty young Lady kissing you.”

“I don’t want her!” His voice was exasperated, and I rolled my eyes.

“Who do you want then, Robb? Or what, to be more exact? If it’s pleasure you want, I’m sure there are plenty of young women who would love to visit you in your chambers.”

For a split second, anger crossed his face.. But after a moment of hesitation, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards his chambers, despite my protest. Once the door closed behind us,Robb turned around and pulled me into his embrace, pressing his lips against mine eagerly.

Without even thinking, I found myself kissing him back and the sound of satisfaction that Robb made had me wanting this moment to last forever. But after a few moments, he pulled away, his eyes gazing down at me wearily. “Does that give you your answer?”

“I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head sadly, and his eyes grow hard.

“Has my mother been telling you that again? Is that what she said to you the night that you ran from me?”

“And other things.” My eyes fall to the floor, but his fingers tipped my chin up, forcing me to look up at him.

“What other things?” Robb’s voice was gentle, and I felt the wall I built up around myself slowly begin to crumble.

“She wrote a letter to my family, telling them that I abandoned them because I didn’t want to marry, and of my location. Your mother said if I continued to be with you, that the letter would be sent out immediately, and my fate would rest in the hands of…” I shivered slightly. “My husband.”

It was silent for a few moments, and I looked back up at Robb. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were ablaze with anger. My hands moved to cup his face and his eyes met mine again. “You cannot tell confront her about this.”

“Why not?” His tone was filled with disbelief.

“She will still send out the letter. I’m sure she made plenty of other copies in the incident that you found out.”

“Even if she is my own mother…” His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I cannot stand for her to use her power to mistreat people that way. If she sends the letter, I will not let that man take you away. I’m the King of the North.”

“I don’t think this man will play fairly.” I whispered quietly. “He might come when we aren’t ready. Maybe even in the middle of night.”

“That’s why I need to confront my mother, and that is why you will be staying in here with me from now on.”

“But-“

“No buts.” Robb shook his head gently. “Your safety is not something to argue about. And at this rate, my mother will eventually find out again about us. I’d rather know you are safe than risk it by sending you back to your chambers.”

I let out a small sigh, and nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m glad you didn’t try to argue with me this time. “ A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. “It would’ve been a much lengthier conversation if you had.”

“I’d rather not argue with you anymore. It’s a rather nasty affair.”

“I agree.” Robb leaned down and kissed me gently before adding, “I’ll talk to my mother in the morning. For now, I think we should get some rest. “

—-

The old man  had watched from afar as Robb stopped the handmaiden down the hall, his voice hushed but desperate. Eventually, the King of the North had taken her back to his chambers, and that led the old man towards Lady Stark’s chambers.

“My Lady… I have news.”

“I hope it’s good. I was just getting into bed.” Catelyn Starks voice was irritated as she approached the door to find the man standing there. “What is it?”

“Your son took your handmaiden back to his chambers. They were fairly quiet in their conversations, but I don’t think it’s good, My Lady.”

Catelyn Stark retreated silently back into her room, grabbing the addressed letter off of her table before turning back to the old man at the door. “Give this to the fastest rider, and get him on his horse, now. I want that letter delivered before sunrise.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The man nodded before disappearing into the darkness of the hallway. Catelyn shut the doors, shaking her head with a smile as she walked back towards the bed. She had given that young girl a chance to make a life her. But she had made one too many mistakes, and for that… she would have to pay the price.

[msjr0119]

Marshgate Prison

Part 1 - I’m a good guy

NEW SERIES: At Marshgate Prison, New York City- Riley Brooks begins a new job as a Prison guard. The inmates and guards who work there have kept many secrets hiden. Will she become involved in these secrets? How will she react to the common riots that constantly take place in the rough prison.

Catch up on the introduction here

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @yukinagato2012 @dcbbw @qammh-blog @nz1091 @beardedoafdonutwagon @cordonianroyalty

****

Arriving at work the following day, Riley was dreading going on the women’s wing. Having slight palpitations. She had previously worked in a women’s only prison. They were all bitches to put it politely, were always fighting to be the ‘Queen Bee’. Liam pulled her into a corner after the hand over meeting, asking her to go out for a drink again. Politely refusing she felt guilty- but she had promised to go another time.

“Liv, this is Riley. She’s the new guard.” Riley smiled at the woman who provided her with a resting bitch expression. Olivia eyed Riley’s body up and down, feeling jealous and green with envy - that Liam was spending time with the newbie.

“You’re not a talker then, like Walker.” Riley laughed nervously, as Olivia remained in silence- there was no need for communication as her face did that.

“That darling, is because Walker has a crush on you.”

“Excuse me?” Riley became flustered, feeling extremely warm all of a sudden.

“You heard me. Isn’t that right Hana? Walker likes the new guard.”

Hana nodded, Liam provided Olivia with a look that could kill. Frustrated that she was winding Riley up, but also had a pang of jealousy that some other man thought similar thoughts regarding her. Hana pulled Riley towards her, giving her an over affectionate hug.

“I’m so glad some one so nice as you has joined the team.” Placing something in Riley’s pocket discreetly, she broke away from the close encounter and winked towards Liv.

The morning seemed to go slow, slower than the previous day. Comparing the male inmates to the females, there were so many differences. The women were constantly arguing, fighting. It was like being back at school- petty behaviour. Where as the men generally got on with activities, with the odd outbreak of fisticuffs.

******

A few hours later the warden pulled Riley into his office, she was assuming it was regarding feedback on how her second day had gone. Trying to rehearse what she could say, she was bewildered by the anger written across his face. Feeling like she was about to be put in detention- paranoid thoughts began to roam her mind.

“Miss Brooks, it has come to my attention that you may have smuggled some counterfeit items in?”

Before she could respond, he began a strip search on her- finding one of the things that he had been informed about.

“Sir, that isn’t mine. I swear it isn’t.”

“Oh don’t worry. I know it isn’t. Are you confident enough to not shadow Liam for the remainder of the day? If so, I’d like you to be safe- and stay on the men’s wing.” Nodding, she felt annoyed. But relieved that she didn’t have to face the people who for some unknown reason had tried to stitch her up.

******

Drake was sat at the dining table, with a few other inmates playing cards. Noticing Riley he wondered why she was there as he knew the guards rotations like the back of his hand. Excusing himself from the game, he gained Riley’s attention- concerned as to why she looked so defeated.

“Hey. What are you doing here? I thought you was Liam’s shadow. As far as I’m aware, he’s on the women’s wing today.”

“I was until two bitches planted drugs me on.”

“Heh, Liv up to her old tricks again? Involving Hana?” Nodding, she felt defeated already, considering throwing in the towel. He didn’t need an answer physically spoken- he knew the answer.

“She also said you had a crush on me. I think she has nothing better to do with her life. See ya soon Walker.” She waved to him, not giving him chance to explain what she had just suggested. Olivia was correct, he had the slightest crush on her- he couldn’t deny that to himself, but he would do to anyone who questioned it.

******

Riley’s shift had ended, she had an eventful day to say the least. One inmate had implanted drugs on her somehow without her noticing- those inmates involved made her feel frustrated not knowing as to why they would do it. She had no interest in Liam- never showed any passion towards him. Avoiding Liam when they had clocked out, she didn’t want to risk becoming injured- because he was fucking the Queen Bitch.

Walking through the busy streets of New York, she thought she would go down memory lane for old times sake. Standing outside the old dive bar that she had worked in as a student, she was shocked that it was still open-it had avoided somehow mysteriously being burnt down due to a dodgy insurance job.

“Riley? Riley Brooks is that you?” Turning around she knew that voice- that hyperactive full of energy squeal.

“Beaumont. Long time no see. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. What about you? Let’s grab a drink and catch up.” Riley knew she couldn’t say no- he had always been persistent.

Maxwell explained that after school, he had trained up to be a choreographer- which didn’t surprise Riley at all. He was always busting a move out at the school discos. Explaining about her own life, he was shocked that she would be a prison guard- he had expected her to be a model or an actress. All the boys at school had wanted to date her.

“You have good days and then bad days. Today’s been a bad day. The women inmates are the worse. I’d prefer to just stay with the men- they are less psychotic.”

“Is it true that guards have affairs with inmates?” Resting his chin in his palms, he was ready for some inside scoop.

“Yes, it’s common knowledge. But I’d never do that.”

“Even if Brad Pitt was an inmate, don’t lie and tell me you wouldn’t do him.” Shaking her head laughing, obviously a celebrity inmate would make their work day interesting.

“I’m a professional Max. Apparently an inmate has a crush on me. But I think it’s just gossip. He is handsome though.”

“What’s he in for?”

“I can’t tell you- confidentiality and all that. But he insists that he is innocent and I believe him. He’s being released in a few weeks. He writes the most adorable letters to his nephew- he has done every week since he has been there. My heart breaks for him.” Being released soon. Letters. Nephew. Maxwell wasn’t the brightest of sparks but he knew this wasn’t coincidence.

“This man... is he in for rape? Brown hair? Brown eyes? Closed off personality?” Riley remained silent, her eyes widened. Assuming it was just coincidental.

“Is he Drake Walker?”

“Drake who? I can’t say I’ve heard of that person Max.” Beginning fidgeting, she couldn’t help but think he would study her behaviour - knowing she was bullshitting.

“You’re lying. I won’t grass on ya for confirming the identity.”

“Fine. Yes. It’s him. But that’s as far as it goes. Don’t you dare tell anyone that I said an inmate was handsome. How do you know him anyway?”

“His nephew, Bartie. Is my nephew too.”

“Oh, it’s a small world. Anyway I better get going- it’s been nice catching up.”

“Riley? He’s a good guy. Don’t let him being an inmate put you off him. Here’s my number. We can catch up another time?”

*****

The morning after Drake was dragged out of his cell, abruptly and early.

“What the hell?”

“You have visitors Walker, make yourself look presentable.”

Escorting him in to the room, he pondered about who would want to visit him as such short notice.

“Drake!”

“Max? Sav? What are you both doing here?” They both looked at each other smirking. After requesting an urgent visit, they needed to see him.

“Well, Max knows your new prison guard. They met up for a drink yesterday. Apparently Max had a crush on her too at school.”

“What? I don’t have a crush on her.”

“Why are you both denying it?”

“Denying what? Both?” Believing he misunderstood what Maxwell had just said, he needed him to elaborate before his mind worked overtime.

“She called you handsome. Anyway... are you definitely getting out in a few weeks? Is there a anything that could prevent it from happening?” Savannah asked in a serious tone of voice. She had missed her brother, and needed him back home.

“No, I’ve been keeping my head down low so I can come home- to you guys and to Bartie.”

“Good, Riley’s work hasn’t gone to waste then.”

“What do you mean?”

“She rung Max yesterday and invited us over. She had been investigating your case- she will probably get sacked for it. So this goes no further. But she confessed that she knew you was innocent, and that you shouldn’t be here a minute longer than you need to be.”

“Why would she do that? It’s only a few weeks. I’ve lasted years, a few weeks isn’t going to hurt.”

******

Drake returned to his wing, his thoughts lingering on the new guard who was apparently helping him get out early. Scrutinising the area he saw her, natural instinct was telling him to question her regarding what Maxwell and Savannah had told him. Instead he shook his head, deciding to play pool with another inmate.

“Nice shot.” Smelling her perfume lingering around him, he felt intoxicated.

“Thanks. I need to ask you something, in private.” Leading her out of the way of prying eyes, he built up a slight bit of courage to ask her. “Why are you trying to get me released early?”

“How do you know that?” Raising his eyebrows, she’s soon realised. “Oh...”

“Why are you helping me? I’m here for another four weeks. I can last that long. You don’t need to help me.”

“I’m sorry okay. You don’t deserve to be here if you are innocent. I’d try and help anyone not just you. I’ll let you get back to your game.” As she turned away to leave he grabbed her hand. Losing her balance he caught her. His calloused touch, made her melt away.

“Follow me. There’s enough guards here. You won’t be noticed missing.” Escorting her towards a secluded room, there was dust surrounding every crevice. There was a damp feeling- an eerie atmosphere.

“Thank you for helping, I didn’t mean to sound a jerk.”

“You’re not a jerk, unless you’re hiding your true identity.”

“I’m a good guy, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Max said you were a good guy too. I already know- I don’t judge a book by its cover. You should have fought though. First impressions on Hana Lee, is that she is a good one too but is trapped by Olivia’s black magic. She is hypnotised and would do anything for Olivia for that slight bit of attention.”

“You’ve got us all sussed out. I can’t wait to be released, but I don’t know how people are going to react. That’s the only worry. If it wasn’t for Bartie I think I’d return to Texas.”

“You can’t leave!” Riley shouted, without thinking about how she said that.

“Why?”

“You are letting whoever set you up win.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“And because of your family here.” Phew. Good back up she thought, not wanting to disclose the real reasoning behind her not wanting him to leave. He was hoping she would mention about him and her - Maxwell had got his hopes up. Who would want to get to know a ‘rapist’?

“Also you’re here. You’re the only person who has known me a couple of days and has made the effort to get to know me. So thank you Riley.” Riley felt flustered, hoping he wouldn’t notice she blamed it on the dust. Throughout her career as a prison guard, she had always resisted an inmates charm and flirty banter. But there was something about the man stood in front of him.

“We really should go, before I come up in a rash or something. This dust really isn’t helping either of us. And I need to leave before I do something I regret.” Drake provided her with a questioning look, she avoided his gaze.

“Riley?” He pulled her towards him, his hands cupped her cheeks- both their chests raising. Breaths in unison.

“I really want to kiss you.” He whispered to her, his hot breath lingered against her ear. Gulping she wanted to do the same. Jeopardising her job. Jeopardising his release. Hesitating at what to do.

“I want you to kiss me too. But you’re so close to being released. I can’t.....”

Before she could respond, he kissed her gently on the lips- closing her eyes it was as if the world around them had melted away. Breaking the kiss, they both stood gazing at each other as if they were having a stand off.

“When you get released, you’ll have to kiss me again. You’re a good kisser.”

“I’d like that. You’re not too bad yourself.”

After another longing kiss, they both made their way back to the wing separately.

Before the end of the shift, she snuck into his cell to say goodbye, he provided her with a letter for her and a letter to Bartie. Asking her to pass it on, joking that it would save him the cost of a stamp. Agreeing to contact Maxwell, she left him to go home via Maxwell’s.

******

Maxwell sent her his address, travelling to the other side of the city- she was nervous to read her letter. Debating on opening it, not understanding why he would give her one.

“Hey, Mrs Postwoman. Come in.”

“Always the comedian Beaumont. Hi Savannah, here’s a letter from Drake.” Entering the apartment, Max told her to be quiet as Bartie was asleep. If the young boy didn’t get his power nap, he would be a nightmare throughout the night. Savannah explained that he was due to wake up shortly anyway, so it wouldn’t be a problem if he woke up and to ignore the protective Uncle.

“You look exhausted- been a rough day?” Savannah asked not meaning to sound rude. Passing her a glass of wine, Riley gladly accepted.

“No, it’s been quiet. And frustrating. Anyway I better get going.”

“Stay for something to eat. We were going to get a take out.”

Bartie woke up around an hour later, Savannah placed him on her leg and read the letter out loud to him. This was a weekly thing to do. She couldn’t wait for Drake to be released and bond with his nephew.

Hey big man. Uncle Grumpy here. I can’t wait to see you soon. I am going to spoil you rotten to make up for our time apart. Also I’m going to treat your Mom too- maybe Daddy and uncle Maxi as well. I felt like running away back to Nana’s ranch in Texas once I left this hotel. But then I met the most beautiful amazing lady. Buddy, if you ever find a girl that makes your stomach flutter grab her with both hands and never let go. She allowed me to kiss her today. I hope you never have to go through this. But I will always teach you to defend women. Four weeks buddy and we will go camping and make s’mores. I love you. The countdown is on. Uncle D x

“Who did grumpy kiss?”

Savannah and Maxwell looked at Riley who had turned a bright shade a red, becoming flustered again.

“Riley?”

“Don’t start Max. I didn’t want to jeopardise his release date. But it was like a magnet pulling us together. He wrote me a letter too. I don’t know why when I’m going to be seeing him nearly every day.”

“You should read it. My brother obviously likes you even with the burden in between you both.” Riley asked Maxwell to read it, she didn’t know what it would contain.

Hey gorgeous, thank you for spending time with me today. I can’t stop thinking about you- you are like my drug at this moment in time. Why couldn’t you have come into my life before? These last few years would have been a lot easier. You are amazing, don’t forget that. The way you listen to people, talk to them, get to know them. That is the definition of a best friend. I’d like to take you out when I get released, if you’d allow me- as a thank you. Just let me know what you think. D x

“Ooo. You’re going to be part of our misfit family.” Before Riley could respond, Bartie jumped on her knee, half asleep calling her ‘Mommy’.

“Hey, I’m not your Mom. Your Mom is on the phone to your daddy. He’s like Drake isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he may have the Walker looks, but he definitely has the Beaumont charm.” Laughing, Riley wasn’t exactly the maternal type, deciding to play Pat-A-Cake with him- to her relief he enjoyed it. Giggling away- she began to fall in love with the happy child sat on her lap. Savannah walked back into the room, looking shocked as if she had seen a ghost. Robotically walking towards the wine bottle- she poured herself a glass before downing it in one gulp.

“Sav? What’s up?”

“The prison rung Bertrand up. Drake’s been beaten up. We have to go to the hospital now!”

[glasgowkisschelseasmile]

Scandal

Pairing: Brian X Reader - Taken from @glamrockmonarch - fantastic AU concept - Thank you for letting me finish a half finished story and take a little bit of artistic license over your world! Although, it is an older Brain in the AU,I have written it that you can put him younger or older.

Word Count- 25K

Reformatted because the tumblr app wouldn’t open anything but the first and last couple of paragraphs. 

Still not working? Try this link

Please let me know what you think, feedback and comments are more than welcome! I decided not to break it up as it didn’t seem to flow as chapters or parts. Thank you to my buds who have encouraged and listened to me say for about six weeks tell them that it was nearly finished! @diamondxclawedxglove @disasterdeacy

Smut & Angst under the cut!

Infidelity. One tiny word that had caused hours of heartache for y/n. An act she didn’t commit, yet it followed her around with every step. Everything was tainted from that one moment and everything was wrong since that newspaper flew from her hands and bounced off her husband’s chest, the second he walked through the door from the school run, as screams erupted from her mouth. Four simply words had ripped her world apart.  ’Brian May Affair Exclusive’

Y/n tried to read the article through tear soaked eyes as the words seemed to float and jump along the page in her shaking hands.

‘Despite a wife and two teenage sons at home, it appears the Queen guitarist has been up to his old tricks. It has been reported he was seen leaving a hotel with a female television producer, who’s most recent work was on a documentary featuring the rocker. May was well known to have repeatedly cheated on his first wife but had seemed to calm down in recent years since marring Y/N Y/L/N- May, a popular writer and presenter some years his junior. The pair had kept their family life incredibly private and only confirmed their relationship once she had double barrelled her surname, despite reports they’d wed months before and begun dating when she was only in her early twenties. It is unknown currently how long the affair has been going on behind his wife’s back.  However, friends have commented that the scarlet woman in question had made it well known of her intentions towards the musician as she’d been previously linked to a handful of rockstar men including but, not limited to…’ “How could you!? You fucking bastard!?” She cried out as the newspaper landed open with its slanderous story on full display at his feet. Before, y/n never even contemplated she could feel pain that this; so intense and everlasting. Hours passed, weeks and then months yet those bouts of crippling agony and anger still sat within her. ”It was a mistake one night. I was feeling so bloody terrible. I’d gone just for a night to clear my head and you couldn’t come. I- I’d had a couple of drinks and she came onto me- I did not encourage this in anyway. She just happened to be there and, fuck, yes, we went back to her hotel room but, darling, it did not mean anything. I didn’t even cu-“ The slap across his cheek had burnt for hours after y/n had packed her bag and taken their two very upset teenage boys from their house that night. She was broken but they were inconsolable and furious. Harry and Fred always had been her priority and it really didn’t matter if they missed the last two days of their school term after all the photographers were trying to follow them. They hadn’t known until lunchtime when they’d bunked off school to buy lunch and the newspaper was on full display in the off license for all their peers to see. They’d ask school to call their Mum as soon as the first click of a camera could be heard. “Don’t leave.” Brian teared up at the door as y/n hunted for the dog’s car restraint. It was more autopilot than genuine thought as she walked through various rooms. “We can work this out.” “You’ve broken our family. You and you alone. Those boys have been hounded all day because I could barely get out of my home with those vultures circling to get them. They’re just kids, they aren’t equipped to deal with this. Truthfully, neither am I. Goodbye Brian.” The front door shut with a heavy thud that seemed to shake the old house as y/n listened out for anything that may indicate if it was her husband or someone else. The worst thought was the fleeting one that maybe anyone else would cause less of a sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. She heard the dog give a few barks as she jumped off the couch and then happy jumps of paws on the hard wood as she greeted her owner, unaware of the mess around her. Y/n could hear her husband cooing over their ball of fur before asking quietly where his wife was. “Where’s your mum? Hey? Where’s y/n?” Footsteps neared as his shoes where discarded. Y/n just waited to see if he’d just dropped in or really, she’d lost her precious night alone. “Hello?” Brian’s smooth voice rang through the hallways looking for his wife, but her eyes focused on the TV in-front as-if nothing was wrong. However, her nervous tick of bouncing her knee easily shone through to someone who knew her. “Babe?” Y/n was silently debating if she should answer or if she could somehow escape to take the much wanted night apart to hide. She just wanted to be alone and wallow in self-pity and sadness without worrying about upsetting their children and, truthfully, Brian further despite wanting him to know pain like she felt. She wanted him to feel his soul burn every time their eyes met, or someone patronisingly asked how they were doing. “There you are, my love.” “Hi.” Y/n caught his reflection in the mirror, a gentle smile played on his lips. Just the sight of his wife close by and in their home once more by made his heart flutter still. The three of them hadn’t been gone long but it still felt almost impossible to eat his breakfast or do anything but sob in self-pity in his bed. Just even seeing any of them in the house made his soul seem to glow and swell in adoration and happiness. “Where are the boys?” “Rog was already taking Max so offered to take them all. Harry, Fred and Max are all meeting some friends at the gig and then they asked to stay out the night. I said they could… I hope you don’t mind.” “No, why would I mind. I’m happy the boys are having a good time.” Truthfully, she was; those two had been through so much in the past few months and they deserved to have some fun rather than being self-appointed protectors of the family now. Their lives had changed the same as hers had with the whispering behind their backs and constant advice from other members of their family that hadn’t been asked for. She had watched her sons slowly harden as if the perfect bubble they thought they’d lived in had popped. Brian padded into the room with a tense brow as he lingered around, transferring his weight between his feet, until y/n forced herself to speak. ”What are you doing now with a free night of not being a taxi?” Although Y/n was desperate to get their marriage back on track, it seemed almost impossible. They’d fought for months, attended counselling and yet all y/n could hear was his voice muttering some other woman’s name. Despite how many times her husband had argued it was a stupid one time error of judgement when he was feeling so low. It didn’t take away her pain. The house was somewhere she had once felt so safe and secure. She could crumble within its walls and not need to keep up appearances but now, it felt so cold and lonely. Once where memories of her boys playing or her husband chasing her around in their early years of marriage now replaced in her mind with created visions of whispered conversations behind her back or stolen kisses not pressed to her lips. “I don’t know…” Brian scratched lightly at the back of his neck. “I was hoping to spend some time with you; without work or kids as distractions.” Hazel eyes flitted down to her knee that was jumping at twice the speed now with her lip caught between her teeth. She must really hate him to be this uncomfortable with him alone, Brian thought, and that seeping feeling of self-hatred ran around his body. “I’ve asked Rog to us three rings when they’re all home so, if the phone rings, it’s just that. I know you worry.” Brian tried to raise a smile, but he could see his wife’s gaze shifting to anywhere in the room but him. “Our therapist said we are meant to-“ “-I know what she said, Brian. I was there too.” This was one change that couldn’t seem to dissipate; her mood swings. One minute she could be laughing with her friends and then two minutes later be a crying mess with any passing thought of him or his infidelity. The tears just made the feelings of humiliation even worse; she wondered who saw, who knew what her husband had done? Did they pity her or think she was stupid, blame her even? Did her family, friends or, worse, the boys think she was doormat for coming back. Y/n tried her best not to care and push away those thoughts, but it was impossible not to. Even worse, she wondered why she was the one in tears when Brian seemed to be doing so much better. She currently just felt so alone in the world. Her family weren’t much better than the press when it came to the matter. Her mother and sister constantly reminding her they ’knew this would happen’ and ’well if he got caught once… You’ll have to bet your arse it has happened a thousand times you didn’t see.’ It depleted her energy and shattered her already broken heart into pieces.   However, when face to face with Brian, she was just livid and hurt; she couldn’t let it go that her lovely husband could hurt her so deeply and try to use stupid phrases from the therapist? She wanted to slap the shit out of him and scream in his face. They’d been told to say non accusatory words to not fan argumentative fires, but it was hard to think of it as ‘their affair’ when it was Brian who fucked up. “Can I sit with you? I just want to read a book quietly or watch something together. I just want to spend some time with my wife.” Brian’s soft and calm voice broke her thoughts as her face softened and as quickly as the anger came, it ebbed away to the amount she always carried. Y/n could see how much he was trying to be normal with her and hold himself back from pushing any situation. She’d watched his hands hover her shoulders before he left, watched their boys kiss her cheek goodbye but never pushed as he whispered a declaration of love. “I don’t mind. I’ll go if you want me to but I’d adore to just sit next to you if you allow me.” Y/n gave a slow nod, pulling her legs into her body to make herself as small as possible and adjusted the cushions to build them up around her. It was just every barrier she could possibly make, she did. In bed, once Brian was finally allowed back in that was, y/n had bought the same type of long body pillow, she’d used when pregnant with the twins, as a barrier between the two. Brian knew full well why, they were sharing a bed purely so the boys didn’t know how apart emotionally they’d become. The kids started to forgive him slowly only once they thought their mother had. “I love you.” Brian almost whispered. “I know.” Y/n just couldn’t always bring herself to tell him in the moment even though she felt it so deeply. It hadn’t helped everyone’s judgement. She could feel eyes on her in the supermarket and those hideous TV shows debated if she was stupid for staying.  The feelings of despair and sadness creeping once more into her mind as she scanned his profile; seeing his hands turn over each other with his face pained in thought. How did this happen to them? “Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat if you want.” “You need to eat too. I’m worried about you.” A hand came to rest on her ankle, thumb rubbing the bone as it had done thousands of times before. “Your running on empty. The boys-“ “Do you want a glass of wine instead?” Abruptly, y/n stood up, almost running from the room before Brian could get into any real conversation. “Y/N…” Brian rubbed his eyes in exacerbation. He truly didn’t know how much longer he could go on being rebuffed; just wanting to feel the warmth of skin on his or feel comfort from his wife’s touch. He had no right but mostly he wanted to hold her in these moments of intense suffering and be that sanctuary he used to be. “We’ve got white already open; hope you don’t mind.” Brian was still perched on the edge of the couch. His hands where clasped together and covering his mouth with elbows on his bony knees but offered a tight-lipped smile as the glass was handed to him. Y/n circled her husband almost nervously before forcing herself to sit next to him like their therapist had suggested she needed to slowly begin to let it get better. However, as Brian remained on the cushion edges, she pushed herself as deeply as possible into the fabric. This time last year she’d have probably thrown herself into his arms by leaping off the back of the couch and giggling as she almost knocked Brian off balance in their playfulness at the excitement of a full night unexpectedly to themselves. “I- I do love you, Bri…” Y/n stuttered out, surprising herself at the boldness and the relief that seemed to fizzle in her stomach. “I know.” He sighed, that tight smile still playing on his lips that meant he wasn’t really okay, and his mind was captured in painful thoughts. Long fingers swung his wedding finger around, he’d only taken to wearing it full time since everything had happened as it got caught on his guitar too often on tour and Brian had always maintained he was nervous of losing something so sentimental, of course his wife had since wondered otherwise. With another sigh he turned to y/n pulling her view from his hands to his eyes. “We’re not getting through this, are we?” Once the words where cast he had to turn back around because he simply couldn’t look at y/n anymore when the pain was this sever. Instantly y/n felt shame take over her whole body. It may have been him that had fucked up, but it was her who wouldn’t allow her mind to forget. Anytime it started to lessen, she’d force herself to remember that pain or her anxiety would flood her in droves of ‘what ifs’ and shouting that they couldn’t go through this again. Brian had tried everything; allowing her space, then coming back to trying to be affectionate physically, trying to plan a romantic weekend away, he’d even slept for three nights on the floor when y/n was convinced she could smell another woman on him suddenly but didn’t want to worry the boys with their fights. He’d even held her hand, hanging off the edge of the bed, as her tears flowed quietly. He’d cried with her but never did anything other than silently comfort his wife how she’d asked him too. “We’re trying…” y/n voice broke as she heard her husband trying to sniff back his tears. A delicate hand rested in the centre of his back, rubbing calming circles that made it even harder to speak. “How much longer can we try for?” He turned, looking his wife in the eye once more, both glossy and pained. “I’ll forgive you because I can blame myself because I know you and I know this is not how you act. However, in all seriousness, how much longer can you try for? You’re not eating, not sleeping, you’re not even writing. I know you and I know you haven’t written a single word in months.” Y/n’s eyes gazed into his hazel ones that glistened with tears finally breaking that he quickly wiped away. “I honestly think if we can’t get past this our family would be better in half than walking on eggshells. The boys have never been in trouble before this and Fred’s in and out of detention every other day and Harry? At least Fred’s angry all the time, Harry just has these huge outbursts; sometimes he can barely look at me when he’s not plastered to your side. Then he has no problem staring me down every chance he gets.” “I don’t think he’s exactly to blame for his little pops at you. I’ve always said you weren’t laid back enough with them-“ “-I just want them to do well. I push them because they’re clever lads. Don’t tell me how to parent my boys when you know it’s not about me being strict with them. I want the best for them… which is why, I don’t know if this situation is the best for them. And I’ve done this before, I know how much it rips your soul in two to not wake your kids up for school every morning. I love doing that. I treasure being a dad so much but, we- we need to face facts that it’s not good for them and it’s not good for you… I just want what’s best for you and I want you to be happy and I will just have to accept that it’s not me anymore.” “We’re all really trying, Brian. It’s a hard age for them regardless of what’s going on between us and all their friends know what’s happening. They haven’t really got anyone to talk to; they won’t talk to me at all about their feelings anymore… I don’t like how they’re getting so tall; I can’t hug them like I used to… It’s starting to feel like hugging you when you were all bony and skinny with your ridiculously long limbs…” The circles getting stronger into the tense muscles of his back before slipping under his shirt. Her tears too not quite holding back now. She missed his warmth so deeply but couldn’t bring herself to accept tainted skin against hers anymore. ”You do make me happy. The times we’re good, we’re great. Even since everything. I know how much you try, and I will keep working for you. They don’t want to be split up from you. I know how hurt they felt when we went straight after it happened. I know because they told me. They wanted you there… even I wanted you there sometimes.” Y/n and Brian somehow found the strength to pull themselves together with tears being wiped away. She wasn’t lying, y/n had realised when she’d instinctively turned to roll her eyes at their boy’s antics of trying to wrestle in the surf. Y/n wanted to see her husband smiling at them all, then having to makeshift some clothes for the drive home when they were freezing and wet. That was the night she knew their relationship was worth saving. She’d packed their bags at midnight and driven into the early hours to get home and found her husband, sporting a scruffy peppered beard, crying quietly looking at the array of family photos in the living room. The boys hadn’t ever let anyone, not even admitted to each other, know of the relief of watching from the stairs as their parents sobbed into each other’s arms and a thousand apologies whispered into each other’s shoulders. “I wanted to be with you.” Her fingers found a tight knot at the base of his spine and her thumb began to press harder until she felt it start to come apart. It was natural, something she’d done so often but with being so touch starved it made Brian close his eyes with a gulping sigh of contentment spreading throughout his body, but it just seemed so wrong after all he’d said; he felt unworthy. She dried her cheeks again, even though the tears ceased they still seemed to be pulling at her face still. “Why don’t you take them out for a day? I’ll stay here so it’s just you three. Buy their love and affection if you must, spoil them a little bit. They’re good boys and they deserve some time with just you. They won’t worry so much then. Do whatever weird man things you boys do when I have to stand in a music shop for hours whilst you get hassled, the bit before I give up and look at book shops or anything but people telling you how great you are.” Y/n rolled her eyes in jest but Brian could reel off a handful of occasions that had happened to them both. “You mean the bit where the boys somehow load up a basket of everything they want to try and somehow it goes onto my credit card?” “Yes, the bit when they take advantage of you being forgetful and telling them your pin codes or ability to forge your signature.” They both chuckled as their souls seemed to warm up just a little more. That was part of the reason both Brian and y/n tried so hard to keep things together. Duct tape the cracks till it looked seamless to anyone but them. It was just since that time they’re relationship had become so volatile, both could be prone to the odd flair up or picking a fight but it seemed out of control some days and on the flip side, they could be happy and jovial over dinner until he’d tried to initiate any romantic or such alike. “They’re little buggers sometimes.” He took another sip of his wine and placed the glass on the table. Brian gave a feeble laugh, looking over his shoulder at his wife who was scrunching her nose in that way that was purely her. He winked at her as he spoke. “They get that from you.” “And they get their obsession with collecting from you… I’ve been thinking…” y/n tapped her foot nervously again and picked some nonexistence fluff from her yoga pants. “Maybe we should go away like you’d suggested. A change of scenery might do us some good; just us. R/W/N or my parents would probably look after the kids and the dog.” “I’d love that.” Brian spoke as another wave of relief washed over him as he dared to place his hand over hers on her thigh. He gently squeezed in sincerity as his smile opened for the first time in days. “I’d really love that. You love Paris or is that too cliched?” “I wouldn’t be mad at a weekend in Paris or Florence or even somewhere completely new. Anywhere with you will be lovely.” Desperately they were both trying to have some sort of semblance of normalcy. They’d frequently slip in and out of the state, but it did seem to be getting slightly more often and longer periods. It was okay when life was busy, work, calls and two kids to rush around meant they could at least pretend everything was normal for small periods of time. It was the nights that things got more complicated; when they were forced to be alone together. Y/N would sporadically still touch Brian, but he could feel how forced it was. She’d even occasionally grimace, and they hadn’t had a proper cuddle in bed since that night before the news had broken. Memories of that night sometimes where all that kept him going. The thoughts of soothing touches and kisses had ran around his body as she softly whispered sweet nothings and positivity in his ear all night. When he showed no signs of being able to sleep, even in the small morning hours creeping around them,  she’d taken him between her lips and into her hand and blown him until he was a quaking, sweaty mess under her. y/n realised now Brian’s initial reluctance to do anything physical since that weekend was his overpowering guilt but that night he’d clung to her desperately as he tried to find some hope and solace. He’d rocked his hips into her as one hand roamed his body with soft hums and Brian’s hands tangled in her hair as he whispered, as loud as he dared, about how loved she was. It all seemed so cheap mere hours later. They’d done all the therapist exercises, Brian admitting that it was his fault and his alone, validating her feelings of pain and betrayal and trying to picture a future together. The book said to picture grandkids and enjoying retirement, but all y/n could see was an empty house and loneliness. When she’d told the therapist, she’d simply said to think of next Christmas, what did that look like? Truthfully, y/n had no idea. She wanted to see him, and their boys surrounded by her stepchildren and growing number of grandchildren throughout the years but any time she felt like they were moving forward, another wave of sadness hit her and knocked her down again. Brian shuffled back, relaxing into the cushions with his hand on her thigh still. It was just instinctive impulse that caused her to close the gap and press her lips softly against his temple. “I miss you. I miss your touch. I miss your lips.” He muttered as his eyes fluttered shut but felt his wife edging away from him. “Babe, I’m so-“ “Shush. I know.” He watched her glass be placed next to his before leaning back and tugging a dumbstruck Brian back to her. His back against her chest and her hand holding his and the other coming to pull his forehead back to her lips. “I know. I just… I just look at you and I see- it’s so stupid- but I see marks on your skin. I look at these lips and I see horrible lipstick stains. I look at your beautiful eyes and wonder if you even want to see me or are you imagining someone else. Do you even want me physically anymore or are you here to save face? I see the boys and I think about how you didn’t want more children and I did, so we had them. What if you blame me for trapping you? Are you here because you think you have a duty to us or something silly like that? Do you want to be with someone else? Do you want her?” In one minute she’d said more to Brian than in months. Let him know her worries and concerns and Brian could feel the quick heave of her chest as her leg started bouncing again. This time, however, he reached forward and took her ankle in his hand before pulling it into his lap and wrapping her body around his before turning to look deeply into her eyes. “You are my world with my children; every single one of them. Never, ever doubt that you didn’t give me one of the greatest gifts you ever could. I fell in love a thousand times deeper and more intensely when those little nuggets were placed in my arms. I didn’t even know I could love someone any more than I already loved you. I’m not here because we have children. I woke up one day in how ever many years and made a mistake. I wake up every morning and remind myself what a fucking idiot I was, and I try my damnedest to try and fix the pain I caused you and the kids.” Brian  sighed as he tried to hold himself together and squeezed her calf muscle to centre himself. “I love you. I always have and I always will. Only you will ever be my wife, I promised you that on our wedding day and I hate myself that I broke a vow because I didn’t ever think I would. I was so low, and you were so busy, and I fucked up. The same way you feel like I don’t want you physically; that’s how I felt… fuck, how I feel.” “How could you even think that?” Her brows knitted together in confusion, until the affair she’d always been very affectionate to him. Always peppering kisses and nuzzling into his body when they’d curl up together. “Because look at you and look at me. Maybe when you were in your twenties and I had some semblance of a rockstar-“ y/n quickly cutting off her husband before he went down a rabbit hole. “Hey, I didn’t meet a rockstar though. I met a lovely guy who wanted to talk about animal rights and the night sky, and you duped me with this rock god bollocks.” “I duped you?” He shook his head away from her as he tried to discreetly wipe away the stray tear that fell. “Yes. I didn’t want some rockstar wanker. I wanted some nice absentminded man who knew about interplanetary dust and ate far too many pastries but had no idea where his wallet was and left his house keys on my kitchen table even though I’d reminded him quite literally the second before to take them. I loved that about you when we met. I loved you coming back and convincing you to stay again or the way you’d tell me a million theories by people I had never even heard of; about things I never knew existed. I loved you for you.” That last statement hurt. He’d spent far too many nights with women that wanted him to be who they thought he was and didn’t care how he felt or were willing to spend any time on anything other than just fucking a pop star. Even from their very early relationship, y/n had always taken care of him. He doubted any of his onetime bed partners would even know his middle name or favourite book. ”What a stupid fool you’ve been…” Brian thought to himself. “That’s still me but I’m older to say the least, my hairs turning colour and my body aches in the morning. I’ve seen the way other men look at you; I’ve quite literally been pushed aside by men to talk to you before. How can I compete with guys your age? Look at me.” For the first time in months, she did. Brian carried a little more weight than when they met but he looked healthier to y/n now, not so thin or eating that dreadful diet of whatever someone had left in the fridge or he could get delivered.  He had more wrinkles but so did she, the lack of sleep wasn’t helping either of them and, yes his hair had changed colour multiple times till it faded to grey but his eyes. His eyes were the same hazel with tiny flecks is green that shone in the light or whenever he was excitedly talking about a subject. They still turned deep and self-reflective when he was saddened by something. Whatever had changed physically it hadn’t changed a single thing about how she felt about him. He was still utterly handsome and when he’d wield himself around on stage, he was still sexy to her. How could he not recognise her utter admiration to every part of him? “You’re so very handsome, Bri. How could you even begin to think I didn’t find you attractive or interesting anymore…” Y/n was taken aback as she replayed so many times, she’d brushed him off even before the mistake. The new book had taken nearly all her time and energy and the nights she’d creep off to write in the darkness or when Brian would softly ask her to take a break or just that he was down, and she’d not been there for him. That weekend y/n had blamed Brian for disappearing off but she’d also remembered how the boys had shut their doors and battled each other with loud music and she had sat downstairs with headphones on to drown them out; no wonder he felt his only option was to get some peace and quiet and that bitch had prayed on him. He’d fucked up but the pain and regret was evident in everything he’d done since. She should have marched upstairs and pulled the cables to the twins’ speakers or made Brian stay and take the dog for a walk into the town and have lunch together. He should have stayed, and they should have talked this out months before any issues had arisen. Maybe some of the guilt she felt was internalised, if she’d had taken that Sunday afternoon on Friday, if she’d have baked his favourite treats and wrapped her body around his in the hazy sunlight, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t have done what he did. Y/n fingers ghosted his cheek, Brian’s eyes locked to hers moving around his face and body. She leaned forward, lips pushing into his ever so softly it almost felt like smoke dancing along his skin soon to slip away. He knew not to push, to relax with a soft hum of appreciation. Her heart seemed to reform slightly as she felt his shoulders relax but could feel his lips just holding back from what he really wanted. With passion and force, their kiss grew. Maybe the words couldn’t express how she needed to be back with him but hopefully some romantic attention could. Y/n caressed his sharp jaw with her thumb and Brian reciprocated. His long and delicate fingertip ran over her pulse point, feeling the strong thud when his hand splayed around her neck with a tender and gentle touch. Brian’s hands relaxed their grip when he reminded himself to slow down. He’d gladly accept anything his wife offered no matter how short. Savouring what he believed to be the last fleeting moments with her lips on his. Y/n’s weight seemed to shift around him, her leg pushing further across his lap and Brian gave a surprised whimper when he felt his wife wrap her arms around his neck and lower herself into his lap. “This okay?” She asked as his hands remained in mid-air but their lips never truly parting. “I just wasn’t prepared.” “Why aren’t you touching me?” She mumbled against his lips as their noses rubbed together in a change of sides. “I didn’t know I was allowed to.” He admitted before taking her hips with a squeeze. The thin T-shirt had ridden up and exposed her lower back which gave Brian an opportunity to touch her skin. She was almost so warm and soft; exactly how home felt. One hand fell lower daring to press under the thin material of her yoga pants and give her ass a playful grasp. She allowed his hands to roam her body feeling wanted and safe in his tight hold. It felt so wonderful to be here once more. They both melted into their lover, moaning into each other as her tongue slipped across his bottom lip to deepen the kiss even further. Her hand draped around his shoulder and into his open shirt to feel the intimate skin of his chest. She’d missed him so dreadfully and it finally felt like they were reclaiming their marriage together. “You really do have a fantastic arse.” And that simple statement of praise and Brian’s attempt to make her feel attractive instantly caused a sink in her gut. Had he said that to someone else? Was he comparing the two women? Had he felt that bitch up like he touched his wife? Then she could feel it; that cheap red lipstick staining her lips from his. A powerful shove from her palms to Brian’s shoulders knocked him back into the cushions. He was shell shocked; how could everything flip so drastically? Change so quickly? He watched his wife begin to pace around the room with wide eyes as she shook her head and once again avoided looking to him directly. “Darling, what’s wrong? You’re worrying me. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you, but I can see how much I have.” He jumped up and tried to place a hand on her chest and back and rub calming circles like before, but it just made it worse. She screamed at him to not touch her and Brian just stood dejected and feeling as if he was taking up far too much space in her world. It was back. The red hotspots as she was calling them. Sometimes when she looked at her husband, she could almost see glowing patches of skin where he’d been unfaithful. Holding someone else’s hand, had she kissed his chest like y/n did, tickled her tongue along his stomach until he squirmed or bit his neck in pleasure as she held his strong hips. “No, no, no, please no.” She crumbled as her knees started to give way and her hands come to wipe the flowing tears. That’s when y/n saw it. The bright red glow on her own skin, could feel the heat they generated, every place his hands or mouth had laid where suddenly burning with memories and created visions of his betrayal. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand as if that would somehow help but her head was spinning. No other thoughts could process in her mind other than Brian’s unfaithfulness and how his skin and soul had been polluted by another. All she could think was how he was transferring everything to her; making her unclean and defiled too. “Why did you do this!? Why did you allow yourself to be tainted like this?! How could you do this to our marriage, Brian?!” “Darling, you’re having a panic attack. Look at me.” Brian was kneeling down next to his wife, eyes of pure concern as her chest shook with deep sobs. He tried to hand her a drink, but she couldn’t bear to place it to her lips. “I just can’t stop thinking about you… doing that- something so personal and private with someone else… with her…” Another fresh set of tears broke down her cheeks as her body screamed for air turning her voice weak. ”You left our home to be with another woman, Brian! Not on tour, not away in the world. You left me… for her.” The guilt was already steadily tightening a knot in his gut. His poor wife was broken, she’d been his greatest support and champion and he’d repaid her by doing this. “I’m so sorry.” Brian sniffled with his cuff pressed to his nose, knowing he had no right to cry and swallowed down his own tears. “I truly am. If I could take this back, I would. If I could do anything to take away your pain, I promise you, darling; I’d do anything. Keep breathing. Place your hands to your face and deep breaths.” Y/n did as he instructed and thankfully the actual attack was relatively short-lived from what she’d been experiencing recently. She hadn’t had anxiety attack’s regularly since she was nineteen. Before this had awful mess had happened, Brian was always there for her. He’d place a hand over the centre of her back and chest and shush her until she felt less claustrophobic and then he’d pull y/n’s body gently to his chest and enclose her in their own little bubble. Brian was y/n’s security blanket, a protector against the world and whatever scared her, but never did she think it would be his actions that could terrify her to the core. “I will never, ever fuck up so fucking badly again. I’ll spent every waking second of my life trying to make this right if you want me too. If you want me, that is. I worship the ground you and our boys walk on already and that will never change. Regardless of your decision. You’d never have to worry about money or anything such as that either. I’d make sure you got what you deserved. I’ll stand aside if you want me to.” Y/n hadn’t seen her husband cry over the situation much since she’d come home, he’d tried to be strong, but she could so often hear small sobs from behind closed doors or see how red his eyes were in the middle of the night. However, as he spoke those words he never imagined having to, he looked like some poor and broken man whose clothes didn’t fit and emotional pain physically manifested in his lithe frame. “Nothing can ever change how much I love you, y/n. You’ll be okay always; I promise you’ll get back to being happy soon.” “Just hold me.” Y/n was still so pained and emotionally raw but just maybe the attack had subsided as soon as Brian was close and calm. The ice-cold burn in her lungs subsiding slowly as her chest still felt like fire to touch. She needed him, as much as she wanted to deny it. Her thoughts from the last hour all swirled in her mind as she tried to focus on Brian in front of her with his soft voice of pure sincerity. Y/n reached out, taking his hand in her own and placing it over her heart. Without having to be asked, he started to rub soothing circles. Brian’s other hand moved to gently encourage her head against his own chest as he peppered kisses to her hair . It could have been minutes or hours, neither would be able to guess a time as Brian continued to whisper comforting words to her. “I want to take a shower… I can still feel everything on me. I just need to be fresh right now. If we’re having that conversation. I need to feel okay at least.” Y/n said as Brian groaned standing up, hissing in pain. “Just my knees. Don’t worry.” “I told you not to kneel so much on the cold floor. You’re too bony for that…” “Don’t worry about me. Y/n… I want to schedule another therapist appointment for us. Set of appointments really. I want to get back to however normal we can become.” “I do too. It’s just this feeling of-“ Y/n began at scratch at her arms to show what she felt. Brian just waved an understanding hand. “I know. Go shower and I’ll see you soon.” Almost on autopilot she went upstairs but began to strip off her clothes in the hallway to rid herself of one layer of bad feelings at a time. Brian sat back down completely unnerved at how bad it had truly gotten. How could he have missed such a thing? Every step forward felt like three back. He’d been so overjoyed just have her and the twins back in the house that everything else just seemed to pass him by. He gave a long sigh that racked his body with exhaustion and began to absentmindedly play with the ring on his finger again. When they’d gotten married it had meant too much to have something on his hand, something so small to show the world that he wasn’t such a mess anymore. Show the world he wasn’t walking alone anymore. Wherever and whoever he was that day, somewhere in the world someone was waiting for him, thinking about him and caring about his despite the distance between them. Gradually they both took their rings off for a plethora of reasons. It caught on his strings or the diamond band flashed the camera strangely when she was presenting a segment. At first, they’d both been unwilling, Brian would slip his on another finger for the tour and y/n would swirl the band around but slowly they both became accustomed to not having that little bit of precious metal on their person more and more. Plodding with leaden steps, he pottered into the kitchen; letting the dog out and then setting on making her a snack, still concerned about the lack of care his wife was taking of herself and it was all his fault. Upstairs y/n was doing almost the same thing as Brian, contemplative and alone in the shower, but eyeing the diamond wedding band sat neatly on the shelf as she washed the shampoo from her hair. She only wore her rings when she went out now, just to not allow any news outlets to try to drag out the already well worked affair. bur Brian had not taken his off for a moment during the recent months, but y/n was still so deep in denial of her feelings that it only served as a reminder of what had happened. When they’d gotten married it seemed so serious and grown up to walk around with a wedding band holding down her engagement ring, she’d play with it all the time and if she was deep in thought she’d tap one ring against the other until her husband would wordlessly press his hand over hers when it had sufficiently irritated him. There was a knock at the ensuite door, shaking her from her thoughts as Brian spoke. “I’ve brought you some toast and a drink up. By the bed. This is fresh out of the dyer.” A pristine towel was unceremoniously dropped through the gap. “I’ll sleep in the guest room.” “It’s not very late, Bri.” She said with a frown hearing the depletion in his voice but getting no response as the bedroom door closed with a small thud of frustration. Brian was stood outside looking at the wall of family pictures and achievements that lined the hallway. The kid’s certificates and his gold discs with their degrees in between previously captured memories. He smiled as he looked between his favourites, only putting them back up when she agreed to come home, their memories far too painful for the month without his wife and younger children especially when his older ones could barely bring themselves to acknowledge that he may be pained too. Lovingly, he stroked his most treasured one; himself, y/n and all five of his children at a after show party. They all looked so happy, Harry just over taking their sisters in height then whereas now the twins where both eye to eye with Brian. His girls had their arms around his wife and Brian pulled both his youngest and eldest son close with Fred kneeling with a cheesy smile plastered across his face and his mother’s hands on his shoulders. If only Brian could go back and tell himself to savour every second and never take them for granted. “What the fuck did you do?” He muttered and turned to go to the guest room far away from the bedroom he wasn’t sure he could still consider his own. Y/n watched as the suds ran over her body, removing all the marks left on her skin from Brian and anyone else. Regardless of how irrational she knew the feelings where they just couldn’t always be shaken away. She knew that nothing of that night would remain anywhere but his mind however, she wasn’t thinking rationally in those moments of utter pain. When they’d first started dating, it seemed a privilege to have Brian’s touch or something of his on her. He’d left his watch on her bedside table and she’d kept it safe on her wrist for two days before he’d come back to retrieve it. She liked being able to see a little reminder of her then boyfriend. Times had changed but still a large collection of random tour hoodies and his vintage T-shirt’s where still her favourite thing to lounge around in and when he was away on tour she’d press her face into the old fabric and breath in that scent that was just him. It wasn’t, however, the same as being able to lay on his chest or nuzzle into his neck from behind whilst he played guitar. That hadn’t happened for months though, hadn’t allowed herself to wrap him in an embrace wholeheartedly but Brian had desperately tried to comfort her or just have that intimacy. He’d try putting his hand on her knee in the car or trying to hook his little finger around hers like they used to when they sat somewhat near each other on the sofa once. Y/n wasn’t to blame for what Brian did, but she also had to saddle the responsibility of getting her marriage back on track if she indeed wanted things to get better. When the therapist had asked about their sex life since, Brian had brushed it off as ‘Fine, all things considering.’ However, she had sat silent; how could see tell the man she loved his touch made her skin crawl because she somehow thought he was covered with his mistress. They’d gone over every detail; she knew what and how it happened but the doubts where still there even after his unbridled honesty. It was now or never. She had to do something before he gave up trying, and y/n feared he was tittering on the edge of the precipice. It was apparently normal to be turned off from sex, but y/n made every effort to avoid even gentle touch and love but when she did accept it. It made everything melt away for those precious few moments before the memories hit like a tidal wave. ”Sometimes it’s just like he’s tainted. I can’t touch him without feeling that way too. I feel dirty and unclean. I instantly want to wash it off.” Y/n said as she sat quietly tucked away with Rogers/w/n in a small wine bar weeks ago, both their eyes scanning the street or bar for cameras or people listening in. “Do you feel he can wash it off? Realistically nothing left now, I know he’s not lying when he said about it being a onetime accident. Roger would know if it happened on tour with him and you know everyone on his solo tours and their families. I don’t think you wouldn’t know if something else had gone off…” “They’re on his payroll. Of course, they’d lie because he’s putting food on their tables. I wouldn’t blame them.” “But if you still see these…. these things… Have you heard of revenge sex? Claiming what’s yours. Make him yours again. I know it’s difficult, but I’ve seen how broken he is, admittedly I’m not talking to him or pitying him in anyway, but I know what he’s telling Rog and he’s devastated. You both need each other to go forward.” “You’re starting to sound like my therapist.” Y/n rolled her eyes as she swirled the wine in her glass. “She thinks that revenge or claiming sex isn’t good to start with, but she thinks I need to make more of an effort, I can tell that’s what she means. We’re going out and when we talk, it’s great, I know he’s honest and I don’t really question his loyalty to the family but the moment he wants to kiss. I just think about the fact he’s kissed someone else. He’s done even bloody more than just a kiss. It wasn’t even like he was on tour and it just happened. He left our house to be with her. He could have said no. A few glasses of wine? Like that’s an excuse, he knows I’d have picked him up if he’d have called.” Y/n’s friend had just sat there and pouted in thought, letting her friend speak. She hadn’t gotten y/n to really open up at all, only flashes of emotion before someone or something would take their attention. “I want to be able to accept him back like before, but I- I just can’t…” She took a large gulp of her drink, avoiding her friends’ sympathetic eyes in a bid to not cry again. “The therapist suggested a spa treatment or showering together because it’s personal and private… relaxing but I don’t know.” “Because you were obviously not freaky before.” R/w/n teased and rolled her eyes which raised a small laugh before her friend covered her hand with her own. “You’re paying a small fortune, try what she’s suggesting if you can. Don’t even say about the boys, you know I’ll have them any time.” Y/n took a deep breath as she stepped out the shower and wrapped the still warm towel around herself. Purposely she walked to the other side of the bathroom. She took her wedding and engagement rings and pushed them onto her finger to where they are meant to sit. It warmed her soul, she’d admit, to feel them again on her own terms. Tenderly she brought them to her lips, kissing them with a thousand resealed promises. “Brian?!” She called for him as she scanned the bedroom and into the hallway but only the dog gave a brief bark from one of the boys’ rooms. Briefly she glimpsed their wedding photos even more determined to somehow make this fade into the distance. Her steps where brisk as she caught the sound of the main shower running and the open guest room door. “Hi.” Y/n breathed into the steamy room, breaking Brian from his thoughts and pulling his head away from the tiles but keeping the soaped wash scrubber in his hand. “Are you okay?” He asked concerned to why she’d come to him. “Is something wrong, love?” Y/n gave a gentle shake of her head, a hint of a smile on her lips. “I love you.” She spoke definitely and honestly. “Can I join you?” Brian was understandably taken aback, he’d only really gotten in the shower as a way to waste some time before the inevitable time he’d have to retire to a bed that wasn’t his own and fight his body’s natural want to be awake but the pain of sitting alone in his home was too great on his heart to bare. “Yeah…” Unashamedly her towel was dropped and kicked to the side of the room with a confidence rooted more in ‘fake it till you make it’ than anything else. However, her husband was wide eyed and breathless as she slipped around the shower screen and pulled him into a chaste kiss. “I want to make this work. I really, really want to get through this rough patch.” “Me too.” He whispered as y/n draped her arms around his neck and pressed their bodies together under the streams of hot water. Brian instantly pushed his face into her shoulder, kissing any wet skin his lips could land on as his arms circled around her waist so tightly. “I love you so much.” Hazel eyes were forced open, gazing at the curves of her hips and dimples on her back; he tried to memorise every dip and sweep of her flesh that he’d taken for granted just in case he didn’t get the chance to do so again. “I know you do… Stay with me tonight.” Y/n turned her face, pressing a long overdue kiss to his jaw. “Stay in our bed. Please?” The thud of her heart was noticeable between their chests as her nerves grew. What if he said no? Brian smiled tight lipped, almost like a nervous teenager, nodding as his cheeks grew pink with a blush of happy energy radiating through his body even though he’d claim it was just the hot water. With a deep breath she reached behind her back, taking his hand and the shower mitt before bringing it up to his face and brushing the soap over his mouth, cheeks and jaw line. The red marks weren’t there but she pictured them fading away like the exercise had said, each one of them being soaped away with each pass of her hand over his neck. Y/n watched the red turn pink and then be washed away as he tilted his head under the water, his usually wild curls somewhat subdued. “Is there a good reason you’re trying to water board me?” Brian teased y/n before she rolled her eyes with a simple nod. She forced her hand lower; looking over his scared stomach before her hands travelled back up his lithe chest. The mixture of soap and water made his skin slick so y/n’s hands could easily spread around and rub at whatever area she wanted to be hers again. “You are mine, aren’t you? Only mine?” Brian nodded; they didn’t need more than necessary words in this situation. His chest was next, running over every bump of his ribs from his sternum to his waist and feeling the rise and fall of his breath from underneath. “Yes. Only yours, my love.” She needed one reassurance and only alone. His stomach was so badly marked from being young, she couldn’t even contemplate having to watch him go through so many seriously illnesses back to back. Y/n always admired his emotional strength and drive to get better in such dire circumstances. Circling his hips before dropping lower to massage the soap around his long legs, kneeling before him as Brian kept much of the water from hitting y/n. Even though his legs carried almost no muscle, he always had these perfect curves and soft lines of definition. Y/n had to say, the blessing of that first hot summer together had caused her so many distractions when they’d laid out in Brian’s garden to escape the heat of the city. It was so perfectly private for their burning passions for each other. They’d barely worn clothes for those days and anything inside seemed an impossible task. He hummed as fingers pressed into and massaged his calves. “That feels really quite nice.”   A gentle kiss fell to his knee, still red from kneeling so long downstairs. She moved to his thighs, looking up at him through wet lashes to see his eyes half closed and his lips holding a smile. Brian took the soap in his palm, sweeping it over her shoulders with so much care and attention. Neither of them had to speak as his slender fingers massaged into her shoulders till, she moaned out and closed her eyes, thumbs digging into his thighs with a gasp. They never felt pressured to always be talking, many years of love and kinship meant they could communicate on so many levels together. Cautiously sweeping quickly over his crotch as she stood, focusing on his reaction, but his soft moans and bite to his lip awaked something almost forgotten within her. The wash cloth was released from her grip as she allowed her hand to dance along the hot skin of his hip bones causing his breath to catch and his eyes to close as the back of her hand brushed against his length before slipping it fully between her palm and instantly feeling pulses of excitement start to throb. “Don’t-“ He pushed her hand away just slightly as his pent-up sexual want bubbled at his surface and fogged his mind. “Kiss me.” It came out as a small, desperate whisper but Brian needed no explanation or further instructions as he dipped his head to connect his lips to his wife’s. The pressure was strong and consistent, but it wasn’t meant to be sexual, any emotion or connection he tried to pour into kissing her and ignore the ghosting touch to his twitching cock. It was y/n who opened her mouth slightly causing a gasp to vibrate through her lips before a long groan. They picked up where they left off downstairs with little gasps and moans and his hands squeezed her hips but as he went to use the path of the water to slide down her to her bum, he remembered and instead just rubbed a small path up to her waist. “No. Touch me.” She murmured before kissing him deeply again as a thousand locked away feelings flooded their minds so almost nothing could come.  “I want you to touch me. Can I touch you?” She asked but Brian just gave a long groan and nodded before kissing her again. Her soaped palm glided over his sensitive weights before taking his semi hard shaft and teasing it with a light and slow jerk of her hand. “Oh god…” Y/n waist was possibly Brian’s favourite part of her body. Hourglass curves where definitely his new weakness for y/n. Brian kissed her again but pulled away, looking deeply into her eyes as his hands stayed situated and hers continued to tease his hardening cock. “Tell me what you’re thinking.” Y/n whispered, pushing onto her tip toes to kiss Brian’s cheek. It just felt so sensual and perfect to have her husband back without the pressure. She needed to go forward and remember why they fell in love, why this all happened and how badly she needed him. His eyes trailed her body, barely speaking as he gave her a gentle squeeze. “You’re so beautiful and, gosh, I love this waist; you’re so perfect. I love being able to hold you by it when we’re out at parties or just getting coffee so everyone knows your mine.” “I’ve always been yours and you’re mine. You are mine regardless of anything else.” Brian kissed her cheeks in return as the emotion almost broke her voice. “When else… I miss your voice. I miss you.” His usually agile mind was clouded and fogged with intense desire. “When I make love to you…” Brian almost blurted out with a long moan but earned himself a reassuring kiss to his jaw. “or when you wrap your body around mine and you make love with me,“ he kissed the shell of her ear. "so I know you’re mine or even when we can’t wait, and I fuck you hard and fast. I’ll lock my hands onto your waist and pull you into me, so you know you’re mine.” Y/n gasped at Brian’s words, so teasing and tempting and yet almost alien from anything she’d heard in the last few months. All she knew was her mind was screaming for everything in that description. She wanted to be around his body as they melted into each other and the rest of the world and the utter bullshit it contained drifted into insignificance. “Make me yours. Remind me who’s I am. I want to be yours again.” Brian’s lips were attacking his wife’s before she’d even finished speaking, his knees dipping to her level. “Come be mine. I want you back.” “You’ve already got me. You’ve got me always.” His mouth left hers with his hands coming to her cheeks and forcing their eyes to lock. “I love you. You know that, don’t you? Forever and a day.” Y/n nodded, pressing three short kisses to his lips as tears threatened to bite at her eyes. ‘Forever and a day’ such a simple statement but to them it held so much. He’d said it when he proposed, when they got married but he’d first said it after a fight shortly after they’d gotten serious. Brian was worried about their age gap and the intense public scrutiny of y/n and their relationship and y/n had taken it so personally about herself because she didn’t see an older man when she looked at Brian. She saw someone on her level. However, to him, in that moment he was trying to save them both time and his heartache when the novelty wore off, pressure became too much, or her parents decided they hated him and eventually she went home with a sob story. “Forever and a day.” He repeated, holding her jaw as if it was delicate glass that could snap at any point and leave his fingers cut to ribbons. Until she too whispered the words just loudly enough to hear over the muffle of the shower water bouncing off the tiles. They were desperate kisses and she willed her mind to keep her focus on her husband not allow anything but excitement to creep into her thoughts. The fear that it would all end with anxiety still weighting at the back of her mind. She prayed to anything or anyone who would listen that the advice would work. Y/n took a hold of her husbands’ thick forearms moving his hands along her waist and hips to her thighs before dragging his palms to her chest.   Brian too had his own nerves about pushing his wife or the ever-creeping doubt she simply didn’t find him attractive anymore. He was so incredibly apprehensive to just be touching his lover as he’d been rejected too many times to the point it felt almost like she hated him. Their old life felt like a distant memory of happier times and burning flames of excitement. “Brian please…” She whined. Calloused hands cupped her breasts with his thumb just brushing her left nipple as y/n squeezed his bicep with a small moan. “This okay?” He muttered against her cheek as his wife’s hands slid up onto his shoulders and pressed them even closer together. “Oh, fuck yes.” A soft mouth attached to hers before moving along her jaw and down her neck. She melted whenever his lips were working the column with soft nips and the effect had most certainly not died. His thumb worked her nipple into a stiff peak as his fingers got involved in pinching and mildly rolling it between his rough fingertips. Her eyes closing involuntarily from the combination of her husband attention and craving to get out of her own mind. Brian’s tongue stiffened and licked along her collar bone before moving down the centre of her chest with a drawn-out gasp of his name. He moved to kiss and lick the underside of her ignored breast with his hand sweeping down her side to gauge her reaction to touching her full arse, Brian’s mouth attached around her nipple with a deep groan that vibrated through his lips. “More.” Y/n gasped as her back arched and pushed her tits out even more. Finally, the apprehension was starting to fade as they fell into step with each other. His fingers knew exactly how to draw on her skin as hers knew the pressure points on his neck to squeeze whenever he hit a perfect spot. Time seemed to slow down as they’re touches sped up with Brian’s mouth crossing to take her other bud between his teeth until his wife was wrapping her thigh around his hips in need some friction with moans that reverberated around the tiles. “Why don’t we take this to bed?” He said, voice deep and dripping with honey.   Without an answer, her mind too full to form words, shaking legs backed her body out of the shower before wrapping herself in the forgotten towel and picking up the warming fresh one from rail before holding out for her husband to step into. For the first time in a while she wanted to take care of him like before, there wasn’t any edge of pain or sadness as he chuckled roughly with the towel stroking over his face and ridding the droplets of water that had fell from his hair. It felt like a dream, like it could all crumble in a second for Brian and into a nightmare. It had done before. Whenever he felt like he was finally getting the light back into her eyes, something would change and then the world would collapse in on her; just leaving two people stood with broken hearts and no way to console each other without further pain. So easily could this feeling of jubilation from just her touching his chin fly into reminders of what he’d done. He let y/n lead the way down the hall and pulling him into their bedroom. She turned to him with a wicked smirk, as she flicked the bedside lamp on, her confidence evidently growing as she threw the last thing covering her naked body to the side. Brian’s jaw dropped once more causing a warming sensation of pride to run through her chest and cheeks. Lips connected back together with smirks and gasps as hands began to roam skin that was untouched for so long. Y/n ran a finger down the centre of his chest to the deep scars on his stomach feeling the muscles of his abdomen tense and shiver under her barely there touch. Nerves and anticipation grew in both their stomachs as a sensual kiss deepened into something far more passionate. Almost silent gasps and moans ran between the two. They could both write a book on the other; for example, all she had to do to get Brian in the mood was softly moan as she kissed his neck and chest whilst he read a book in bed and y/n knees would go weak if Brian pulled her leg around his hip and ran just fingertips along her sensitive inner thigh until a shiver ran down her spine or if his teeth nipped her bottom lip if he’d give her a pseudo innocent kiss and her a teasing slap to her behind; especially effective if it was a routine task she was doing or a seemingly bad time. Namely, either them had to leave the house shortly and she still had about twenty thousand things to do that afternoon. But she loved it, being taken over the sofa or wherever they were in the house, both their clothes just moved up or down enough to get access to their lover. She craved that wanting back; wanting him to take her again and just wanting to be taken. Brian the same, he’d take just being back in the bed for now, but he wanted to complain when he read and reread the same page over and over until he gave in and felt her triumphant smirk all over his body. Y/n gave her husband a gentle and encouraging push towards their bed. They’re lips continued to move together as he pulled y/n with him as he sat on the edge of the bed with his partner falling into his lap with a muffled giggle. Trying to force his back into the sheets, her husband gave a slight shake of his head before roughly yet playfully flipping her onto her back. “Oh, that’s how this is going to go, eh, Mr May?” Y/n was trying to sound teasing, but it just came out as an aching whine when her chest heaved for breath from wild mental overload of the last hour. “I believe I was starting something in the shower and I’d quite like to finish that, Mrs May.” Fingers danced along her ticklish sides as she squirmed under his touch as his mouth dragged and the connected to her hip. He licked, sucked and bit all over her lower stomach and sharp hip bones over her mound and along her thighs. Every minuscule movement caused either a gasp or expletive to leave her lips as her fingers tangled into the sheets to not distract Brian from what he was doing. It wouldn’t have mattered anyways; he was far too lost in teasing her. He needed to feel those little spasms of her muscles or pushing her most private area off the bed as he continued to get closer to actually having his mouth there before kissing back to her neck. Y/n instantly started to try and push his shoulders back down, groaning in his ear quietly about how much she needed her partners touch. Just as her back arched and tried to grind herself against his thigh Brian, shifted to lay next to her and his hand ghosted down her stomach. Long fingers parted her sensitive lips as he groaned and felt the wetness already pooling at her entrance. Holding her apart with his index and ring finger his middle dipped at her entrance and dragged the fluid upwards to gently stroke over the hidden shaft of her clitoris. Brian watched his wife’s eyes close tightly, her back arching at the barely their touch as she pulled his face to hers and began to moan against his lips as her hips rutted and moved his finger along herself. “Don’t tease me. I can’t take it.” Y/n all but whined causing a low rumble with a hint of laugher to rise from Brian. She always was so needy, another day, when they’d reconnected fully, he’d tease her, tie her to the bed and really make it tortuous. “I said I wanted to be yours. Make me yours like you promised. I want it. I need it, Bri.” The smallest and softest kiss was pressed to her lips, barely even any pressure before he was sliding off the bed and onto his knees on the discarded towel. Brian yanked y/n with a surprised squeal towards him with. Strong hands pushed her thighs over his shoulders and massaged the tension he found. “As you wish, my love.” He peppered kisses and soft licks to her inner thigh and y/n pushed onto her elbows to take in the scene before her. He looked absolutely fantastic with his wet hair and eyes blown with lust as he teased his lover. A playful tongue flicked along the tendons were her legs melted into intimate skin before dropping more kisses anywhere but where she craved him. A gasp ran through her throat as she breathlessly begged for more. “Please. Please. Please, baby, please. Baby more.” Brian let the words float for a moment, hearing her almost pathetically mewling for him. He’d craved this for so long and now he wanted to savour every second; memorise every line or movement and taste against his lips. A long stripe was licked along her lips with a flattened tongue, instantly rewarded with a hiss and squeeze of her legs. Y/n looked down to her partner with a moan as she brushed a drying curl out of his eyes. Using a smile of bliss, she gave him a confirmation which made butterflies erupt in his stomach, as their eyes remained locked his tongue pointed and opened her before pushing his face between her legs with a satisfied hum. Hot and wet, his tongue began to tease circles around her pulsing bud. Y/n was in absolute heaven her mind was clear of everything but their little sanctuary and neither her hand nor vibrator had come close to getting her this aroused as he could. She could feel the slickness ever growing and mixing with his saliva as he closed his eyes and head shook as he licked her like the best thing he’d ever tasted. His hand had her locked down across her stomach, gripping her hip so hard it would almost certainly leave bruises as she entangled her fingers into his hair to keep that much needed stimulation. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut as his tongue hit a partially sensitive spot, but she caught her own scream with her teeth digging into her lower lip. Brian’s keen ears heard the change of tone and he looked up to such a beautiful sight but god he needed to hear her moan his name again. His hand left her hips allowing them to instantly be bucking to his mouth more and pulled her lip free. “I want to hear you. Be as loud as you want, my darling.” He smirked, before pressing back to suck and kiss her clit feverishly. “Inside me. I- I want- holy fuck- your fingers inside me.” Without thought he pulled back earning a long groan of annoyance before he sucked his finger into his mouth and sat back on his heels to see her entrance dripping for him. “Babe?” Y/n asked as she saw his jaw go slack and doubts filled her suddenly. “You’re so unbelievably wet.” Two fingers went between her sensitive inner folds as his fingers coated themselves with the thick arousal and his wife moaned at seeing her husband so deeply engaged with her body. “So wet for me. Your little clitoris is throbbing, darling. Can I put these in you now?” Frantically she nodded with the heel of her foot digging into his back with wordless pleas. Y/n dropped herself back fully into the downy sheets, no longer able to hold her body up with the tension ripping her muscles.   Both of Brian’s fingers circled her hole and his arm slipped back around her hips to hold her in place as the moans grew in volume. He had the best fingers, as if they were made just for y/n. They were slender but so long and his touch could flip from gentle and sweet with whispers of love and admiration falling from his lips to roughly finger fucking her with unmentionable fantasies being grunted in her ear. The two digits began to push inside of y/n each knuckle being squeezed, and his movements held until her opening relaxed around him to take a little more. “Just fuck me.” She groaned trying to flick her hips under his strength. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re extremely tight… again.” He smirked at the last element to his statement. It did all feel strangely familiar yet new and exciting just as it did when they first met. “I can hear you being a smug bastar-“ Her voice cut off as Brian’s thumb reached out and began to flick her clit when he was fully taken in. “Smug, you say?” He laughed and received a small kick of pleasure or playful annoyance; he wasn’t going to question either way. His mouth connected back to replace his thumb. Y/n instantly began to arch off the bed, her legs tightening around Brian’s still damp hair and locking her ankles in the centre of his shoulders to aid her rocking herself against his tongue. “Fuck! Brian!” Her moans were so loud as she arched for him and his feet shook slightly in pleasure against his back. It didn’t take much of his fingers curling into her tight heat to have her shaking on the edge and with loud moans. Y/n reached one hand above her head to grab the sheets and the other to force her fingers between Brian’s on her hip. Her knuckles where white as his thumb lovingly stroked hers in contrast to the hard and precise flicks of his tongue as he wrote a thousand promises against his wife. He promised to be true, dedicate every moment of his life to her and be on his knees for only her; whatever her needs. “Keep going. I’m close.” Brian’s efforts ramped up. His fingers moving as fast as possible as his chin was cupped in his palm and feeling the deep groans through his jaw as she started to clamp down to almost pain on his fingers. “I’m going to cum… I’m- fuck- I’m-“ A long moan left her mouth as her orgasm took over. Y/n had Brian clamped by her thighs and her nails were surely digging into his hand enough to leave imprints as he tried to keep enough contact to work her through her high and draw it out as much as possible. Long fingers continued to curl inside of her, rubbing the rough area of her gspot, as she spasmed around them and his tongue sucking and licking any bit of wetness he could. “Fuck! Sensitive.” She muttered with her eyes still tightly closed and her lip pouting out as she pushed his mouth away from her. Brian was panting just as hard, not that he realised how he was struggling to breath, until he wiped his face; making his wife cum was far more important than air tonight. He hadn’t had a release yet but his mind had equally blanked on anything except for how her body writhed in ecstasy, how her rib cage exposed itself as she gasped or the pornographic moans falling from those beautiful lips mixed with the sweet taste against his tongue and steady pooling of her down his fingers and into his palm. “Hard one?” He asked, kissing her inner thigh and his fingers softly pumping in and out of her perfectly pink centre. Y/n could only just about muster a nod. “Been a while, hasn’t it, darling?” “Too long.” Y/n said, she didn’t really have much to say for pillow or dirty talk, but she loved to listen to his soft voice asking or saying the most perverse things. “Do you feel like mine again, my love?” A sharp nip to the tender skin making her whimper. “Yes.” She whimpered. “If I could, I’d spend every evening between your legs. You taste so beautiful and feel so incredible. I just love devouring you. I’ve missed doing this to you so badly. I crave you like no other, my love. I love you so much, but no one physically has ever had me like you. You do understand that it’s you for me. Always.” “Forever…” y/n squeezed his hand, their wedding rings knocking together almost symbolically in the moment with no other sound. “I know. I know. I don’t doubt you.” Brian kissed his way back up her body but keeping his fingers inside of her in a want to be one with his wife in every possible way. However, she gently pulled away his wrist and moved further onto the bed, both of them on their knees as they kissed and held each other’s hips. She could taste herself on his lips, but she wasn’t ashamed to moan out. He was finally hers, covered in his wife and no one else. The red spots didn’t concern her anymore because they didn’t exist anymore. He smelt like home; his aftershave, her perfume and fresh country air. The past needed to be put to bed for both of them; they needed each other more than ever before. Y/n let out a small yelp as she pressed her hips into his and felt an already raging erection. “And what would this be?” She grinned, stroking his length ever so slowly. Brian instantly groaned, his lip between his teeth until her index finger pulled it loose. “Ah ah ah. I want to hear you.” Y/n dropped onto her elbows in front of him, moving her body to be across his, allowing him access to spank or touch her, as she took the already red and leaking tip of his cock between her full lips. He tasted as he always did, the sweetest she’d had but easily the biggest, meaning she could never take him close to fully. With innocent eyes she looked up, seeing his expression already tense as she slapped the head of his cock against her tongue before pushing as much as she could between her lips and wantonly moaning. The sadness may have momentarily passed but the situation still felt different to how it once did. Brian’s hands didn’t immediately come down on her or sweep her hair away to up his visual. She wondered how he felt in the moment; he was trying so hard to reassure y/n but it wasn’t lost on either of them the last bit of sexual contact they’d had she’d dragged his orgasm out whilst encouraging him to use her mouth for his own pleasure. Brian’s guilt was ever consuming him to the point he couldn’t allow himself to be sheathed inside of y/n knowing how he’d betrayed her. In her mind, she would do anything and everything she possibly could to help him be happy. She was his wife after all and although she would never describe it as her duty to pleasure him, if she could fuck him into some relief and sleep, she would. “So good… baby, so perfect…” “Bri?” His eyes opened as he helped his wife back to her knees and their arms wrapping around each other. “Yes, my love?” He asked, brushing her now dry waves with creeping concern at his wife’s sudden demeanour change. “What’s wrong?” “I just need you to promise that you mean this? You mean tonight. I know it’s silly, but I just need to hear it.” Her eyes reflected conflict and pain in them both only his where blown dark with arousal. “I love you. I want you. I need you. You’re my wife. You’ll always be the love of my life. It’ll be work but I will do whatever you need… Shall we cuddle for a while?” He was already motioning to lay down but the words of her friend and therapist rang in her ears. “I’d love to cuddle up with you, my darling.” ’Claim him’  “I can just ride you for a while?” Brian didn’t know what to say, his jaw loose as he somehow murmured a confirmation. He didn’t need any help, but she still jerked his cock a few times to take it back to its full hardness. He’d always felt incredible in her hand and the power to make this tall, handsome and strong man crumble to whimpers was joyous. Y/n sat astride her husband’s thin thighs as she moved her hips to brush along his length caused an unbridled hiss from Brian when he felt the first bit of heat. Her confidence was one again starting to reform. Her hands fell onto his chest as the head hit her still sensitive clit. “We don’t have to-“ he whispered, brushing back stray hairs as he watched her face intently. “Yes, we do.” “I’m more than satisfied making you do that. I don’t need-“ “I do. I need to do this. I need to make you…” Slowly y/n sank down onto his length with a long moan. “Inside me. I need you to…” It felt like when they first started dating or he’d go away on tour; that familiar stretch of how well-endowed he really was. “Fuck.” It took all his willpower not to flip the positions and fuck her with every fibre of strength he could find but the tightness, the wetness and the emotions combined. His mind was drowning in overstimulation and he knew he couldn’t possibly last long. Rough hands where like magnets to her waist now, encouraging the slow grind as he focused all of his being into her. “Just like that.” Brian whispered as his wife’s hands clawed lightly at his chest. “You feel so perfect, y/n.” At the utterance of her name, her cunt gave a sharp squeeze to his cock. That’s what was missing, she feared somewhere well-hidden it wasn’t her he pictured when he closed his eyes. Her hips sped up just a little bit, longer strokes as she rode him. “Promise you love me?” Her manicured nails dragged across his chest leaving pink lines on his pale skin as her hips rocked fully at speed now. It broke his heart to have to tell her something she should indefinitely know. “I promise… This is how I love seeing you, y/n. What keeps me going on the road and those dirty videos you send obviously help.” Y/n gave a small smile but closed her eyes in pleasure starting to build again. “I’ve missed you around me so much. You have no idea how wonderful it feels for the one person you love to have you literally inside of them. We’re one, you and I, y/n.“ “I love you. I love you so much, Brian.” Her voice was desperate, broken as she chased her release and tried so hard to claim his body. Their hips rocked together with breathy moans and Brian brushing both their untamed locks from their faces. “God, I can’t wait to feel you cum on my cock. Can’t wait to pound into you and feel you tighten. You say my name prettier than anyone ever could.” Unexpectedly, she moved from his length, on all fours as she waited in the middle of the bed. “I want that. I want you to take me hard. Make me scream your name. Use all your body on mine.” Brian scrambled into his knees with his hands magnetised to her cheeks as he laid out a heavy slap. Her form jolted forward with a moan being dragged across her lips. It wasn’t their usual sex but the freedom to be loud was never something he wanted to let pass them by and in these situations, he couldn’t refrain from doing so. “Sorry.” He muttered, dropping an apologetic kiss on her back. “Don’t be. I liked it.” Lining his already wet cock with her entrance, Brian took a deep breath and reminded himself to take his time knowing how it was all be over far too quickly. He ran himself through her sensitive folds as little whimpers of approval cascaded from y/n. Her face was tightly scrunched and pushed into the duvet as her hips pushed back searching for more stimulation mixed with the incredible feeling of fullness that only Brian could bring her. Another harsh spank came down to her cheek, his fingers rubbed the area; he wanted both to cause it to redden but also caress and tease his lover. “Punish me.” Brian’s ears just about heard the weak murmur. “Why?” “I’ve not been a good wife.” “I’ll punish you for putting yourself down only.” He lent forward dropping a chaste kiss to her shoulder as his hand gave another burning slap to her hot skin which only made her hiss and groan further. Brian’s hard cock slipped back inside of y/n as she pushed herself onto him. He let out a deep groan as he indulged himself by holding her open and watching his glistening cock being bounced on as her lips and opening dragged around his shaft. ”You’re so perfect.” He whispered. “So perfect for me.” “Yeah?” Y/n mumbled and got onto her hands with closed eyes in hopes of freeing her mind again. “Hit me again.” His large hand covered most of her cheek as she groaned from the pain slowly turning into pleasure. “Fuckkkkk…” y/n collapsed forward again but reached her hand behind her, clicking her fingers until she felt his palm against hers. She moved her hair to one side and bit into cover underneath her in pure pleasure. “I love you. Only you.” It felt electric, their bodies crashing into each other’s as Brian didn’t give her a moment to adjust before he was slamming himself deep within her. Y/n could do nothing more than moan and rock in time with his set rhythm, but she could hear his low panting growl and knew he was just as into this as her. He crushed her hand in his and lent forward to use her shoulder as a holding point to use even more force in their desperation. “Feels so good.” She whimpered under her husband’s strong hands. “I want you to cum in me. Do you feel like I do?” “It’s about to feel even better. Come here.” He whispered, pulling y/n’s arm and shoulder until she had her back pressed against his chest whilst he peppered kisses to her shoulder and exposed neck. “I want to be with you. Make love with me, baby. I’ve missed you with me.” Brian’s left hand took a hold of her jutting hip bone and his right looped her body and turned her flushed face to his. He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his wife’s mouth. Her husband knew how much she enjoyed positions of this variant, always in the shower, or a quickie when they were on a time schedule. She loved how easily he’d stimulate her g-spot and how deeply his cock would press into her and the intimacy of his hands having the full play of her body. Brian couldn’t lie and say it was fantastic to have his wife whimpering under him as he toyed with her clitoris or breasts and could suck and bite into her neck and feel the incredible tightness around his shaft. Y/n couldn’t wait however, pushing his fingers towards her aching wetness. Brian mewled in her ear as he found his fingertips once again brushing between her soft lips and feeling the hardened nub twitch under his tight circles. “Fuck… just there.” She moaned as their hips met in perfect, rehearsed rhythm. The tightness around his cock was elevating and make it almost impossible for Brian to keep time as he bit into her neck with a groan. ”I’m going to cum… Fuck, Bri, ” she whimpered once again and grabbed onto his hair to pull their cheeks together. Hot breath fanned over her skin as she listened to get husband moan her name as he slammed into her and tried to hold back his own orgasm. Pressing a kiss to his cheek she whispered for only him. “Cum with me.” Both their efforts on each other amplified; her bouncing and arching her back and the sharp snap of Brian’s hips against her backside with his hands pulling her even to him. He groaned and grunted about how much he loved her, and she started to almost scream his name as the tight knots in both their stomachs began to grow and tighten. Y/n kept her head turned to kiss any part of his face she could and give him a show by squeezing her own nipple to intensify her bodies reaction to him. Y/n started to clench around Brian’s cock, seeming to beg for his orgasm. As much as he wanted to hold off, he simply couldn’t as he opened his eyes to the curve of his lovers body, her hand on her own breast and his between her legs with her hand squeezing his wrist and the other tugging deep in his mass of curls. “Yes! I’m so close… Cum with me please!” She moaned breathlessly as she felt his thrusts become erratic and the warmth of relief starting to spread from her centre. Her thighs tingled as her climax fully took over her body, hips spasmed as she loudly moaned. Orgasms halted any thoughts but of them reaching their peaks together. Her cunt claimed his release with every pulsating squeeze of her muscles as her hips took over the movement of sliding up and down his twitching length as Brian moaned quietly and kissed his wife’s neck as she tugged his hair with the last ebbs of her orgasm fleeting through her body. “Done. I’m done, babe.” y/n whispered, kissing his cheek as she pulled away his hand that hadn’t stopped the consistent circles on her clitoris. Usually he’d be far more in tune with her, but y/n could tell her husband was in the final grips of his own pleasure. Brian’s eyes were closed as he felt himself finally stop shooting inside of her walls. They’d both surely be painted by the load he’d fucked deep within her. Both stayed wrapped up and gasping for breath enjoying bathing in the afterglow after so long. Brian loved her how her body felt, all warm and pressed against his chest, her shampoo scent and the taste of her lips in his mouth , how he could feel his seed already dribbling down his shaft with her juices was downright unexplainably incredible. He nuzzled into her shoulder, his arms tightly around her waist with one of hers on his cheek and the other onto of his arms, as he laid gentle kisses anywhere, he could. Part of him never really knew if they’d ever experience this feeling together again. “That was amazing.” He muttered as he smiled softly at his wife’s kisses falling against his cheek bone and tilted his head around to deeply kiss her. “You know, you’re the only thing holding me up right now.” She gave a feeble laugh, but she wasn’t going to do anything to change it. “I feel like jelly.” “You just feel nice to hold.” Brian’s honesty and squeeze made her heart bloom, small, broken pieces gluing back together in her chest. It was slow but it felt like she had gathered each tiny bit in her chest to allow them to come back and each one still had his name stamped on them. “Let’s get cleaned up.” “I can’t stand Brian, let alone shower. That’s what you do to me.” He placed a few kisses to her exposed neck, whispering things she couldn’t make out. Y/n hissed slightly in overstimulation as he pulled himself out, his load already starting to fall as Brian moved away and helped her to lay on weak limbs. Y/n saw her husband open his bedside table, a mystery in recent months, and pull out a set of wipes and turned his body away from her view. Quietly he cleaned his fading erection and wiped down his thighs from her juices. Honestly, he wouldn’t have cared but he knew she would. “Can you just come cuddle with me already?” Y/n whined as her eyelids were already heavy with the want to be embraced and sleep soundly for the first time in months. “Just spread your legs first.” “Kinky.” Brian bit back a laugh with a roll of his own eyes when he went to push open her thighs and take a fresh wipe over her mound. The coolness made her gasp and then Brian couldn’t hold back the groan of watching his wife so exposed and her pussy swollen, pink and covered in him. He certainly did not want to take that little bit of himself from her body and neither did she. He was allowed to clean her ever so gently and lovingly. “That stopped your back chatting pretty quickly.” A hand moved to Brian’s stomach, pushing him away slightly but her thumb caressing along his hip bone. “I’m exhausted stop trying to get me going again. Come be a gentleman and cuddle.” Brian shifted his weight over his wife to ‘his’ side of the bed and yanked the covers out from her legs before draping them over both of their naked bodies. He flicked off the bedside light to blacken the room. “I don’t want to fall asleep yet…” y/n muttered already drowsy, her eyes closing and opening slowly. Fingertips held her chin as he slowly kissed every part of her face before pressing an affectionate kiss to her lips. “Go to sleep. You need your sleep, angel.” He knew neither of them had barely slept in months, so he passively allowed her to manoeuvre his body onto his back and one arm around looping her shoulders and the other clasping their hands together on his abdomen. Her head rested against his chest, occasionally kissing just above his heart as she fought to stay away until she felt Brian’s breathing turn slow and deep. The shrill ring of the telephone on her bedside woke y/n with a jolt. Brian groaned, squeezing his wife’s body currently being spooned against his. “Take it off the hook. It’s bloody late.” Angrily he muttered with a full rasp to his voice. “Hello?” Y/n pressed the phone to her ear without even opening her eyes fully. “Just in bed… Yeah it’s- Jesus- three am. Of course, we’re asleep… One second,” she knocked the phone into Brian’s shoulder. “Roger wants you.” “Seriously, what do you even want at this time?” Brian was certainly not a morning person. “Just letting you know all is well. Back home. Bought your kids a burger rather than that rabbit food you insist on feeding them.” Rogers voice was teasing as he put together the various scenarios in his mind. However, he couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a weight of his mind for his friend’s happiness. “Thank you…” Brian yawned, rubbing his eyes but also hearing Rogers knowing smirk through the line. “I’ll pick them up tomorrow lunch time, I guess. I’ll do the taxi next time.” “Have fun… Sleep well.” Brian threw the receiver back onto the bedside table. With a long sigh, he wrapped his arms around his dozing wife, but he knew sleep wouldn’t claim him again. Yet he stayed huddled up under soft blankets with naked skin against his pressing a loving kiss to her ear. They lay in each other’s embrace with Brian’s watching the red numbers of the alarm clock change in hopes of falling asleep. “I can hear you not sleeping.” Y/n groaned and rubbed her face into the sheets. “Bloody hell…” “Can’t sleep now either?” “No… but I’m happy just laying here for a while…” Y/n rolled in his arms, her face instantly nuzzling into his slightly stubbled neck with a sigh. “I’ve got to get up.” Brian whispered as he kissed the top of her head but received a needy groan. “I’ll come back soon. Tea and then back to bed.” “Fine, you owe me breakfast in bed.” “Breakfast of champions.” Brian muttered cheekily just loud enough for her to be able to decipher what he meant after a few moments thought. He received back a slap to his shoulder with a giggle as y/n pressed herself deeper under the warm covers of Brian’s side. “Dickhead.” Brian slipped from under the covers, careful to make as little noise as possible until he had the bedroom door shut behind him. He grabbed his plaid pyjama pants and soft sweatshirt from a tour long gone by.  Standing on the landing, his fingers ticked over his chin with a huge grin breaking onto his face. Utter disbelief and over whelming happiness ran through his every fibre as an unusual spring in his step happened as he started to descend the stairs. He couldn’t, however, resist the urge to hop back up and peer into the room. His wife looked ethereal; hair covering their pillows as the sheets tucked around her body but kept her shoulders exposed and one small, purple bruise on display. “Stop watching me sleep, you weirdo.” A breathy laugh fell from his lips, drumming his fingers against the door. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to…” “I’m up now. I couldn’t go back to sleep anyways. Make me a tea to apologise still though?” “Sure thing.” Brian tapped the door one more before flitting to the bed and pressing his body over hers. Y/n’s arms circled her husband’s neck with a contented smile as she pulled him into a long, chaste kiss. Y/n stretched her body, pushing her hands into her now dry hair, delightfully rolling her body against his; he kissed along her now exposed neck as he moved away. “I’m just nipping to the bathroom to brush my teeth.” Y/n shook her head at her husband’s little quirks. Almost instantly when he was out of bed, he had a toothbrush in his mouth. She’d missed those little intricacies so incredibly much, but she hadn’t realised how deeply until now. “My hair is so tangled; do you have a hair tie? Even if you were definitely on my wall at university, I didn’t think I’d marry someone with hair to his shoulders.” “No bobbles in here. Try your dressing table and then try the bedside draw. Might be some kicking around in there.” Brian shouted as he tried to wrestle his own matted curls, before wandering back through the bedroom, throwing her silky grey robe to y/n as he strode confidently to the hallway. “Anyways, would you rather I’d gone bald?” “Oh, certainly not. You’d look so incredibly… weird. You’d look even more ridiculous!” Y/n grimaced at the thought as she heard Brian’s brisk footsteps down the stairs. Herself, she went to use the bathroom, to look around and rinse her mouth with mint mouthwash, she loved Brian but his ability to miss something clearly in front of his face was unprecedented. She had a quick scan around but nothing that would even begin to be able to be repurposed. Back in the bedroom, the nightstand top was fairly clear; his book barely read, the bedside lamp with a small covering of dust, alarm clock and random trinkets Brian played with before sleep that she barely understood what current obsession they were linked too. She pulled open the draw; pushing aside the wipes and could stop the small blush rising through her cheeks at the sight of a new bullet vibrator and small bottle of lubricant. “Well someone had hopeful plans…” y/n muttered to herself with a giggle. Then the box at the back of the draw caught her eyes. An open box of condoms with a strip of foils already hanging out. She clasped a hand to her mouth in shock as her body started to shake in adrenaline, annoyance and furious anger burning in her spine. Y/n yanked the dressing gown belt tight around her waist as she pulled out the box and ran downstairs. Brian was in the kitchen, already lent against the worktop as he waited for the tea to brew. He rubbed his tired eyes with a long yawn before the box flew into the centre of his chest. Brian, looking down at the purple packaging at his feet and then to his wife glaring at him across the kitchen table. “What the fuck are these?!? Why the fuck would you have condoms?! Do I repulse you that much?! You don’t even want to be against me? Are you fucking her still?!” Tears starting to streak down her face as he stood completely immobile. “Did you fuck her in our bed?” “No-“ “How many other people have you fucked whilst we’ve been together? Are you still messing around behind my back? Oh my God, I’m so stupid!” “No.” He sighed in desperation as y/n turned with a frustrated groan towards the door. “Get out.” “No!” In just three strides he was blocking her exit door with his body, hands holding her shoulder as he looked into her eyes. “I didn’t know if you’d want to use them. I was just prepared for every situation.” “Oh really?!? Where the fuck has the first strip gone, Brian? You cheating fucking cunt. Get out of my way.” He held her fast as she tried to squirm from his grip. “I have three sons. Two are teenagers. I watched my best friend waste away and die because he caught something, and I would have a million hideously awkward conversations to make sure they know that no one’s going to panic or berate them for having contraception. I asked their brother to just say that they were there, just in case.” “Where?” Y/n challenged him as the revelation shook her to the core. She couldn’t fully trust her husband yet, but she wanted to believe him but the horror of her babies becoming men was a thought she could not comprehend. “Boys bathroom cabinet. Behind all that crap they put in their hair.” Their eyes remained locked as she searched his for any hint of lies. “Go look if you don’t believe me.” Y/n knew she shouldn’t, it went against everything their therapist and friends would advise but she still found her legs moving her quickly up the stairs and into the bathroom. It was always disgusting with wet towels on every inch of floor but all her eyes, still shivering with anxious tears, could focus on was that horrible mirrored cupboard. In the left-hand lower corner was a jammed section of products all half covered in their contents in a vague attempt to hide the glinting purple behind them. He wasn’t lying. Y/n let out a heavy sigh from a caught breath as her eyes closed in humiliation to how stupid and quick to assume she’d become. Another fleet of autopilot had her legs walking back downstairs. “I couldn’t sit back and, they’re not by the way, but… if they did, god forbid, catch something or got some girl pregnant. I’d barely be able to live with myself. You always thought they were too young, so we just kept it between us four. I’m sorry. It was my mistake to lie by omission.” Y/n turned to see Brian lent against the door frame, his forehead was tense but he had that look in his eye when he was being open and truthful, even if it hurt. He didn’t speak about his son’s namesake, Freddie’s illness almost ever, and y/n trusted he’d never use his friends passing as an excuse. “I’m so sorry.” Y/n slammed her body into his with her arms instantly locking around his neck to keep their embrace. The force took them both back a step into the kitchen.  “I should have thought. I saw the other things in that draw and I put two and two together and got four million. I’m so stupid.” Brian stroked along her hair. It may not be what he’d thought would happen and far from perfect, but he still wanted to try and earn her trust. “No, you’re not, y/n.” His stubble scratched y/n’s forehead as she rocked on her tiptoes trying to be close to Brian’s height. “Shall we write this one down to experience and move on?” Y/n nodded as he squeezed her body with a comforting rock. “How can you be so calm and forgiving all the time, Bri?” “The same way you can; we love each other. I want to be with you.” “I will learn how to trust you again. Until that happens, if we can’t be normal for a while, we can, at least, be a stable relationship. Stability to start with. Build up.” She whispered. A statement made just as much for herself as her husband. Brian held her hand as they walked silently back into their kitchen as he tried to hold a routine domestic conversation about changing the colour of the dining room as they sipped their tea sitting next to each other at the kitchen table. “There’s another in the pot if you want it?” Brian refilled his own with the steaming cup between his fingers. “Finally going to send me to sleep, I hope. Might watch a bit of tv to try and bore myself to into napping until morning.” “Will you take me outside to look at the stars? Use your fancy space vocabulary and romance me like when we were young.” he could tell his wife wasn’t happy, the way her bare foot tapped on the titles with a small slap and the words she did say, rushed from her mouth. However, he’d still do anything to make her happy; if it was possible, he’d find a way to do it. Wordlessly, Brian stood up, holding out his hand for y/n to take. “You have no clue how happy you saying that has made me.” “Promise?” It was barely a whisper as she slipped her hand into his much larger one. “Promise.” He brought her fingers to his lips to seal that promise. Brian pushed his feet into those horrible clogged shoes he insisted on wearing that made him even taller. The next thing on her list was almost certainly to try and buy him some more trainers or something he could slip on and off that wasn’t those bloody awful shoes; god forbid anyone ever introduced him to gardening crocs. “Footwear?” Brian asked, stopping on the patio step as his wife made no attempt to cover her bare feet or grab anything warm. “Jumper? Trousers? Anything?” Y/n shook her head with a low snicker, grabbing two thick blankets and folding them over her arm instead. “You can keep me warm, hot stuff.”  Brian rolled his eyes as y/n pressed herself along his side. “Cheeky lady. One second,” Taking the blankets in one hand, tea in the other, he jogged as quickly as the fast shuffle of his feet would allow with his shoes dragging to place his tea down on the small table next to the hanging bench just on the start of the grass lawn. She didn’t know quite what he had in mind but the way his eyes lit up in the harsh light was utterly beautiful. He wore happiness the best of anyone she’d ever met. “Right, Mrs.” Brian pulled one of his wife’s arms around his neck and then bent his long limbs as one arm circled her torso and the other another the scooped her body from under her knees. Y/n couldn’t hold in her joy filled laughter as strong arms almost effortlessly lifted her bridal style towards the swing. “Was this what you had in mind?” Brian smirked as she attempted to pull the silky gown down in the breeze and his warm hands held tightly onto her thigh. “Not exactly. This is quite a lot better however.” “So, I shouldn’t just drop you then.” Y/n squealed as he threw her slightly in the air just enough to jolt her body and drag her nails across his neck. “Shouldn’t pretend drop you.” They continued with spirited screams and Brian tickling along her covered sides in complete control of his lover dragging every step out to take his time. Her laugh was his favourite record that was rediscovered years after he thought he lost it. “Okay- Okay- stopppppp!” Y/n wiped away a tear of laughter from her cheek.  They were acting like love dumb teenagers, but they took full and intense pleasure in every laugh, touch or jovial squeal. “Brian Harold May, put me down nicely!” Her husband was never one to follow instructions to the letter so instead sat down with his wife still in his lap with her exposed legs laying out against the cool wood. “I love you.” “I love you more.” His hand crept up her thigh but only to caress the soft skin lovingly as he gazed into the night sky and she into his eyes with a thousand tiny reflections of stars. “I am sorry about that whole thing in the kitchen… It was foolish to react like that.” Brian placed a hand over her knee, rubbing the tension away with his delicate touch before moving it silently to cover her hand. “It’s okay. It’s something we can work on. Be ridiculous to not imagine little blips along the way… I’m sorry that upstairs was rough. I didn’t want it to be like that. I just… I sort of had a vision of just worshipping you and it being incredibly romantic and loving; candles and massages. The whole nine yards. Possibly a little bit of forward planning in the way of ‘tonight is the night’. However, I’ve always loved your spontaneous streak and it’s a treasure when you finally let it out. I can’t say it wasn’t incredibly satisfying to be taken with you on that wave.” Brian raises his beverage to just below his lips, pressing into his chin. “I’m also sorry about the love bite on your neck.” Y/n slapped her husband’s chest as she saw his smirk barely hidden behind his cup. “You are not sorry. You loved doing that… However, I will admit I had purchased some lingerie I knew you’d love. When I got this robe actually. Reminded me of the old you bought me from Japan when we first dated. I loved how nice and fancy that felt on my skin. I wasn’t exactly very fancy when we met.” They both in unison allowed the silk seams to run through their fingertips. “So, your initial plan was to spend hours kissing my every inch and if that didn’t work lube and a vibrator?” “Not exactly…” Brian blushed. “I just wanted you to have a nice time and feel really good. I didn’t care how you got there, how involved I would be, so long as you wanted me close in those moments or just moving onto other activities.” He glanced down to y/n, with her pouting bottom lip at his thoughtfulness behind such a simple act. However, as soon as she saw that cheeky expression take over his face, she knew something more was coming. “There’s also an exquisite glass dildo in that draw that you missed. It’s meant to reflect rainbow prisms on your thighs when the light hits it just perfectly.” “Brian!” Y/n gasped, her cheeks instantly burning from the rising blush. “Honestly, the worlds opened up for me now you can get that variety of item delivered to the door.” “You’re so smug.” “I’m sorry but, are you complaining that I want to give you a thousand orgasms every which way I can?” With another roll of her eyes and hands gently cupping his cheek, she pressed their lips together in a lingering kiss. “Talk to me about the stars, horn dog.” “What do you want to know?” He replied and relaxed his neck onto the curve of the bench back and started to gently rock the swing with his leg. “What’s zodiacal dust? What star is the Big Dipper?” “Well it’s a constellation to start with…” Brian launched into his well-rehearsed speech about almost everything he knew about space dust, planets and the stars, pointing every so often to a particular cluster in the sky and naming whatever intricacies they held and only stopping to sip at his rapidly cooling beverage. She just loved to hear him talk about his passions even if she’d consider herself a rival in knowledge after all these years of hanging off his every word. Her painted nails would occasionally scratch his stubble or break his tempo with a stolen kiss. “Anything else you feel the pressing need to know?” Y/n giggled mischievously as a response jumped into her mind. “Ermmmm… have you ever had sex under the stars?” Brian’s lips fought the curl of a youthful smile as he gave a mocked ponderous sigh with the nape of his neck burning red under her gentle massage. “I believe you were present in that particular instance. God bless that hot summer.” He couldn’t help but bite into his lip as almost lost memories flooded his mind. “Apart from that, no, I have not partaken in such an activity.” Hazel eyes dared to meet his wife’s. “Have you?” “Once again, have never had the opportunity arise before to partake in such an activity. Nor anyone else I wanted to. I do remember it being very romantic though… Worshiped by your lover whist star gazing… If only I knew a sexy astronomer who could take me in his big and, incredibly private, garden which he loves because the lack of neighbours means lack of light so his views of the night sky are uninterrupted…Maybe one with a really, really big… knowledge of the universe.” Now it was Brian’s turn to roll his eyes. “You want to have sex in the garden?” He scoffed. “We’re meant to have grown up out of this behaviour.” “Well yeah, I didn’t bring two blankets out in hopes of one for me and one for you.” “I mean… why not?” Brian assumed this was just some silly game to tease him later. Either he’d agree and she’d mock him for entertaining such a ludicrous joke or call him a prude. “Take those bloody clogs off first though. Not a turn on, I’m afraid.” Dramatically, he flung the horrible, scuffed white footwear high into the air as they landed in two separate spots on the manicured lawn.   “Better?” Y/n pulled Brian into a kiss and almost instantly began to deepen it by sucking his lower lip and then softly biting with a moan when his fingers squeezed her flesh. Her fingers deftly working around the hem of his sweatshirt. “Were you not kidding about this?” She shook her head and began to work her lips over his jaw. “Oh…” Brian moaned as she nipped his pulse point with a large palm dancing up to cup her bum. It was messy and giggly as she pulled him to stand, their height difference amplified as Brian’s regal neck bent to chase her kisses when she moved to pull away. She walked backwards with a beckoning finger till she was further into their garden but nowhere near the thick coverage of trees. Y/n laid out the thickest blanket on the ground, it would keep the falling dew and creeping cold from her back at least. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? What if someone sees?” His wife gave no real or valid response instead dropping the silk robe down with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. It revealed the tops of her breasts, nipples slightly outlined from the evening chill and the neckline now sat halfway down her biceps. “Let them look?” She feigned pulling the robe apart.   “Okay your spontaneous streak is reverting back to about twenty-four.” Brian quickly wrapped his lover into an encompassing hug with a thinly veiled attempt to cover what should be for his eyes only. “Don’t remember you complaining last time or when we fucked across your studio desk.” She said teasingly. “Firstly, last time was one off. Secondly, that was indoors and a soundproofed room.” “It was three thirty in the afternoon and you recorded it.” Brian gave her his own proud but equally disgusted in himself smirk and flick of his eyebrows. “No one can see in. Come on… Make love to me.” Brian sighed, looking around nervously once more. He knew she was right; it had been his intention to make sure their home was fully private. Ensure it was somewhere they could be a normal family without press cameras pointing over hedges or people who wanted to peek over the fence expecting to be able to see some drug fuelled orgy. He lent down, kissing his wife with an elongated moan as large hands roamed the silk once. That was one of y/n favourite things about her husband; she loved his height and his big hands. Brian was quite soft and gentle in his speech and general demeanour, but he excluded a masculinity like no other man she met. One raise of his voice could shock her back down to earth and feeling the lithe muscles that held so much force and power ripple under her touch drove her wild. He’d protect her like no other, vicious in his attack. Yet, he was not one to hold his feelings or refuse admit his mistakes; it had saved his arse so many times, but it was his most endearing quality. “Oh!” Y/n gasped quickly as she brushed his shoulders before dipping her hand into the neck of his jumper. She left his lips and began to kiss along his neck as her other hand slipped under the hem of his sweatshirt. Brian’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he tried to hold in a moan when she nipped at the nape of his neck. Her hand was cold against the burning skin of his chest as she caused shivers to run down his spine. Brian cupped y/n’s face as he claimed her kisses once more, his body pressed harder to hers and took a dominant position with his feet either side of hers. “Brian…?” Y/n stepped slightly back from her husband as she broke their kisses. “Did you really think I’d fuck in the garden?” Y/n’s jaw dropped, and her eyes went playfully wide as she gave a hearty laugh. “You… I knew you were up to something! Right, that’s it!” Y/n knew what that meant and set off running along the damp grass with a jovial laugh following behind her. Brian too was chasing her but if he actually wanted to catch her it wouldn’t take much. She darted around, trying her best to elude him as fingertips would sometimes pass over his wife. “You’re such a cheeky little thing! You’re going to pay for this!” “No! I’m sorry! Truce!” She slipped on the damp grass, knees landing hard and with hands outstretched and a breathless laugh from the combination of spirting and laughing. “Truce! Please! Take mercy on your wife!” “Never!” His body crashed around hers somehow wrestling her squirming body onto his shoulder and back onto his feet. “Put me downnnnn!” y/n whined and banged her fists ever so softly against his lower back. The amount she’d missed even these physical moments was incredible. Had someone asked just twenty-four hours ago if they were a playful couple she would have answered with ‘only when we first got together. Admittedly children had slowed that down, but they’d always played around together. In the kitchen some lazy Sunday mornings whilst she was busy dancing to the radio and making pancakes, Brian would usually indulge himself by watching for a few minutes until she’d turn and bashfully pop one leg at the knee, hands locked together on her hip and grin. It would always end up with various sticky creams and jams over the surfaces, in their hair, and fingers covered from smearing across their lovers exposed skin. Brian’s wrists would soon be captured in her hands, the sweet tastes on each other’s lips as they’d whisper silly affectionate phrases. Brian sank to his knees on the blanket, throwing her carefully to her back, landing with splayed arms and a smirk on her lips. Y/n spread her legs around and across her husband’s thighs. “Truce?” She asked, holding out her hand for him to shake. “No.” A rapid shake of his head with a scrunch of his nose and even faster her fingers where digging tickles into his soft sides. Despite his body squirming from her sharp fingers, Brian managed to grab a hold of one of her wrists but her right repeatedly slipped through his hold, in part, due to the silky material. His thumb would surely leave a bruise on the captured wrist, but he’d gladly kiss it better and she could wear a small mark of normalcy; more than normalcy. A mark of happiness and hope. “I would like to accept your truce.” As the words left his mouth, Brian finally ceased her wrist and dragged the digits from his oblique muscle. “Ha-ha! Captured.” Brian’s weight shifted forward pushing her wrists to the ground. Biting into the side of his lower lip and shooting his eyebrows upwards a self-satisfied air fell around them. “So, quite the predicament you find yourself in, y/n…” Y/n shook her head at her husband, leaning up to kiss him but not quite reaching. He looks so perfect with his hair darkened in the night and aquiline features beautifully framed with the small pockets of light. “Not falling for your tricks again, Mrs.” “I mean it’s been a while. I had hope you’d want to kiss me just enough to get my own back.” Brian pushed his hips further onto y/n’s, essentially locking them to the ground as he adjusted each finger on her wrists and lent down to place the most chaste kiss on her lips he could. It was such a simple kiss, yet it left her breathless and chasing his mouth as soon as she felt the pressure float away. “Just kiss me again.” She whispered and wrapped her legs around his hips to hold him close with a gentle sway when they connected again. It just felt incredibly magical, like at any point a spell could lift. And yet here they were, making out like teenagers outdoors. Their kisses deepened but only with passionate and love. Brian released one of her wrists as his mind began to swim so cupped her cheek lovingly with a wanton moan. When he pulled away once more his eyes sparkling in adoration for his wife, perfectly mirroring the starlit sky above him. “I’m just so happy to be with you.” His smile was undeniably honest as he tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed you more than I care to admit.” y/n whispered back in turn. “Promise you won’t suddenly hate me when you wake up?” He joked with a hazy smile that spread mainly from his caramel eyes and the small lines appearing around them. “Only if dream you does something unforgivable…” Y/n words hung stagnant between them and Brian’s eyes changed to slightly pained or nervous. She’d known him long enough to know it wasn’t a good sign, he’d could quickly get stuck in his own head and the prolonged emotional absence could last for days. “… like watch a series finale without me or something truly heinous. Don’t do that and you should be okay.” Brian rolled his eyes, his wife bringing him towards her with an encouraging pull on his neck for a kiss. It was slow and languid, matching the sway of their hips. The robe had managed to stay tied but much of her left breast was exposed, her nipple just uncovered as the fabric caressed the curve already stiff from the cool breeze. Brian’s eyes trailed over his wife’s chest bashfully; hope of saying something quick witted or sweet evaporating away as his head dropped and slender nose pushed away the covering silk. Warm lips enclosed around her hardened nipple; his eyes closed as his tongue flicked expertly over her. Y/n kept her eyes firmly on her husband, her face turning from satisfied and relaxed to an unbridled whimper within a split second. “Brian!” She gasped his name so sweetly as he hummed and sucked the bud deeper into his hot mouth and his tongue somehow stimulated her to be even harder. Y/n bucked her hips unexpectedly into his, only making Brian lower more of his body against hers and rub the smooth silk covering her other breast. “We shouldn’t. What if someone- oh god!” Her words turned into a needy whine when teeth scraped along the sensitive flesh and made her head fall back into the blanket as one hand tangled into Brian’s damp curls. “Jesus, Bri, what if someone sees?” No answer came just a gentle hum as he sucked her nipple and raised his head until the flesh fell away from his lips. “They won’t.” His voice deep and gravelly in these moments, just loud enough for her to hear. Kisses were pressed to her exposed sternum until he met the deep V of the neckline, slowly, Brian’s hips slid off hers, but his torso remained covering her stomach. Large hands cupped her waist through the silk and his thighs pushed under hers with his knees bent and folded under him. “What are you doing?” Y/n gasped as Brian lightly pushed her upwards and moved her still wet bud between his lips. The long index finger of his left hand slowly hooking between the gown and the knot keeping it secure. “Worshipping you.” He said quietly between wet kisses to her sensitive breasts. “Under the stars.” “Baby… we can’t… not outside…” her eyes tightened as Brian’s nose ran along the fabric and nuzzled his way under the silk at her stomach. His tongue played around her hip bone as her grip tightened, keeping him in place and betraying the words she spoke. “We’ve already done it… you’ve already- oh- made me…” Brian kissed the small marks his hands had left earlier. “I just want you to relax and know how much you mean to me.” “I know what I mean to you, you’re being silly.” Y/n cupped Brian’s cheek as he continued to gently kiss her stomach. “Physically though. That you do something different too me. I’ve missed your body, your whimpers, the way you say my name… I missed it… I need it. I just want to make love to you. Revisit the past a little in the garden…” A confident smirk came across his mouth, winking to try and cover his bared emotions. Y/n sat up with a smile and a roll of her eyes hooking a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him for a kiss. Brian’s hand swept under her buttocks and encouraged her into his lap as he crossed his long legs. Brian’s bottom lip popped out, perfect hazel eyes glistening with puppy dog energy. It was irresistible. Fingertips played over his jaw as Brian dared to steal another kiss. It wasn’t old time, but the passion still burned for them both, reigniting within them time after time in the last few hours. - shiver ran down her spine as the heat of Brian’s chest only made her back feel colder. “Told you to wear clothes.” Brian reached out for the blanket that was abandoned nearby before draping it around her shoulders. “Where were we?” Y/n rolled her eyes once more with a shake of her head, arms stretching back around his shoulders enveloping them both in the soft fleece. Brian’s mind swirled as he snuck multiple kisses from his wife; he knew he was addicted to her lips, but he had idea how much he truly was. A deft finger hooked behind the loosened knot and tugged it apart. “I’m just keeping you warm.” Brian pursed his lips, but his eyes were sparkling pools of caramel. “Just innocently helping my wife.” “If it was innocent, you’d have your top off. That’s how you share body heat.” Two hands slipped into the collar of Brian’s sweatshirt in pure mischief. “Maybe the house would be warmer than.” “Maybe you should try harder.” Y/n challenged Brian with her fingers tickling his shoulders. ”I’m content to be a little chilly if you make some effort.” “I feel like this is you trying to trick me again… or just use me for my body.” “No, tricks. Just us.” Soft kisses pressed to each other’s mouth, nuzzling and holding each other as the air around them finally seemed to start warming up. His hands moved to from her hips to encircle her in a hug, pressing them together. “You still have that fancy lingerie to show me.” He smiled mischievously “So, Sir, you’d like me go inside and put on clothing so you can take it off.” Brian pursued his lips and drummed the fingers of his left hand against her skin. “No, I don’t think I do. Can I place it on a rain check though?” “Save that for another day? I’ve already got it planned in my mind. Getting an empty house, massage oil and candles and really treating you after a long day.” She giggled as her hands moved down Brian’s chest to the hem of his sweatshirt. “Come on. Get naked with me…” Brian sighed, relenting as he tugged off the jersey but was instantaneously rewarded with his wife’s arms holding the black cover around them both and giggling kisses nuzzled into his neck. Y/n pushed herself harder into his lap, moaning in just the way that always made him melt and do exactly what she wanted. Brian, however, knew her tricks and though eventually she’d get whatever she wanted, he could have some fun teasing aswell and began to softly thumb her nipples once more. “Oh fuck…” y/n biting into his neck unexpectedly. “Maybe we should go inside…?” Y/n didn’t wait for an answer as she stood up, extending a hand out for her husband and leaving everything but themselves and the blanket around her shoulders outdoors. She practically threw herself through the patio doors and into the living room, the dressing soon gone and her back into the cushions of their couch with the blanket under her. Brian clicking the door locked and kicking his reading light to the dullest setting. He simply couldn’t miss the chance to have his wife in sight again. Pausing with a gasp, admiring her body on full display for his eyes only. “You’re beautiful, Y/n.” Chilled skin soon landed on top of her own with Brian between her legs, kisses against her lips as they continued as if nothing had changed. His fingers slid between y/n’s legs causing her breath to catch at the cool feeling at her burning heat. “Oh…!” She pushed her wetness against him with nails scraping along his exposed shoulders. “Your hands are cold.” “They’ll warm up.” he whispered as he slipped his middle and index inside and began to motion back and forth against her front wall. Her body instantly reacted with a loud moan and her toes curling into the muscles of his covered calf. “Too much?” Brian whispered as his wife bit into her lip with a shake of her head. Her fingers pushing into the elasticated band of his pants. “I want you inside me again.” Y/n moaned with a voice dipped in tantalising desire. “Please, Bri?” It was too much to bear and physical actions took the place of any words. Kisses became passionate. Brian shifted himself with her hands delicately pushing his clothing down just enough to pull his erection free as he worked them down his legs. Y/n jerked his already hard member just a few times before beginning to moan into his mouth as she ran the warm tip though her wet folds. It was incredible to feel their bodies completely together. His hand gently supporting her head as they kissed and y/n’s fingertips digging into his cheek with an encouragement for his cock throbbing at her entrance. The soft palm around his shaft slipped over his hip as he pressed slowly inside. Every small amount of him that was taken inside felt white hot and almost as if they were made singularly for each other. Brian didn’t give her much time to accommodate; his thrusts long and languid as he made love with his wife. Y/n tilting her hips in rhythm to take as much as she could. “I love you…” She moaned hotly against his mouth. “I love you too, y/n.” His hips were snapping into hers more and more. Bodies bouncing as they collided together. She clawed at his back, leaving pink lines in his creamy skin as she felt the ever-tightening knot suddenly begging to form in her stomach. They rarely used this position but tonight it was perfect. His pubic bone pressing her clit with every thrust as Brian’s mouth moved to bury himself in her neck. “Oh god… just there… don’t stop… Please don’t-“ She was silenced by a crashing kiss. Brian keened against her lips, moving his weight to his hands at either side of her body. “I’m with you…” They both came undone within moments. Neither could tell if her muscles spasming around him or his cock deeply buried inside her with twitches rubbing her clitoris caused their respective orgasms, but it was utterly perfect. They gripped each other throughout, moaning and gasping only loud enough for their lovers’ ears. Brian’s wiry arm shook as he held himself with hooded eyes over her whilst the last ebbs of his orgasm ran down his legs and up his spine. Y/n recovering quietly panting as she sat up to fully press their bodies together with her legs tangling around his. “Thank you…” she whispered, kissing Brian’s cheek before encouraging his body to lay with hers under him and allowing his softening cock to slip from her with both groaning at the loss. “You feel so strong and big around me like this.” Their skin was tacky as they kept themselves as pressed together as possible. His forehead slowly fell to rest on hers, the tip of his nose nudging her cheek as he licked his lips; dry from the cold outdoor air and his panting and whimpering throughout. “I love you, darling. I love you so much.” She knew he was vulnerable, knew how much they’d both gone through in recent hours and even months. Softly she stroked the scratched areas of his back. “We should get cleaned up and really for bed. Our bed. You and I, I want to have your arms around me all night.” Y/n rolled her body from underneath his. Brian rolled onto his back, one hand covering his eyes as his chest heaved, still having trouble with catching his breath. Quietly, y/n cleaned up in the bathroom downstairs, rinsing her mouth with her cool mint wash in there and trying to somehow calm her ‘just fucked’ hair. She hadn’t heard Brian move and could see his mane of curls. “C’mon, big guy. Bedtime.” Y/n lent over the back of the couch and tickled his sensitive sides until Brian groaned. Their eyes met and both softened as he wordlessly began to pull himself from the couch as y/n pulled on the silk of her dressing gown once more. Ever dutiful, Brian trailed behind his wife, locking the door and checking the front, just once more. “What?” He puzzled with a smile as he saw y/n stood midway up the staircase just watching him. “It’s just nice to have my husband back…” she spoke with a small, happy smile. “Locking up the house? That’s what does it for you?” Brian pulled the handle again as the door banged lightly against the frame, his eyebrows playfully wiggling. “Do the washing and you’ll find yourself irresistible.” He jogged the few steps to his wife’s side, her arm around his waist and his across her shoulders. They settled under the sheets of their bed, still crinkled from their earlier exploits. It felt strange to have someone dozing next to her and poor Brian could barely keep his exhausted eyes open as y/n softly kissed his chest and moved her body around his bit his hand held her close along her back. “Goodnight, handsome.” “Goodnight beautiful.” Brian pipped the horn of his car as he drove along Roger’s ostentatiously long driveway. The sun was bright, a burningly hot day, usually would mean the kids would all be lazing around outside as Roger and his wife would sip their coffee in the sun. Tucked in the boot of the car, y/n had already gotten Brian to buy the largest pop up pool the shop had in store for their boys’ summer parties after hearing all about the Taylor’s having their own pool. It wouldn’t be quite as good, but it would do, and they already had arranged for a hot tub to be installed next week. A treat to themselves but mainly Brian just wanting to give his wife the world. “I’ll go around the back. Are you staying?” Brian asked calmly. “Christ, no. Far too hot without the air con.” They let the dog free, the wild thing obviously already sensing the way to her favourite family members as a screech and a blasting splash came into ear. “I knew you were here. That bloody wild dog of yours. You know you shouldn’t adopt the ones they tell you can’t find a home.” Roger joked as he rounded the corner of the house but softened as he saw Brian’s arm draped around his wife for the first time in months. It wasn’t forced. They looked just like themselves, but he could see the happiness literally radiating from both of them. “I know but that’s the pity streak that kept you in the band of all those years.” Brian mocked back before hugging his best friends’ wife and thanking her quietly for sending him home last night.  “We owe you one.” Roger winked to y/n with a discreet nod. “You know it was the name that got me. Maggie May. It made sense at the time.” “Do you want to stay for lunch?” R/w/n asked. “No, Brian’s got a pool to assemble. Thank you though.” He rolled his eyes as Roger let out a chuckle. “How in the world did you get him to agree to that? He’s spent the last twenty years worrying about his bloody grass.” “Ha ha. Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, watching his teenage boys dragging their feet up the stone steps with Rogers own children following behind. “How was the concert?” He got no response but a series of mumbled grunts as they trailed wet bodies inside. Brian wouldn’t change it for the world. “That told me then.” “They do my bloody head in dripping on the floor. It’s fine but I’ve gone flying across the hallway more than once this week already. I don’t understand why they can’t just use towels!” “Mrs Taylor, you are getting grumpy in your old age.” Rogers voice gave a raspy chuckle as the still damp kids appeared with their backpacks and dry clothes. “See you again, micro Brian’s.” “Thanks for last night uncle Rog.” Freddie said, as he hugged his aunt. “Thanks for the chat.” “Go on bugger off, messing up the place with your long legs. Get outta here.” Roger kicking at Harry’s thigh to shove him into walking. The boys had a mini breakdown in the middle of the night when something had come on the radio about their parents, the whole Taylor family had instantly closed around them and comforted the twins as best they could. Harry and Freddie both admitting to each other how much they missed their parents. “Take your bloody wet dog with you! I’ll have to clean that pool now!” “So,” y/n turned in her front seat as the boys got in, damp dog on her cover between them. She started to speak as Brian threw the backpacks in the boot, keeping the pool and the various floats a surprise just for a few more minutes. “Me and daddy were thinking we should all head out to lunch. We’ve got a table outside so Maggie can come.” “Were not little kids. Can’t you just tell us at home if you’re getting a divorce.” Harry had unexpectedly exploded. Brian’s hazel pools flicking to meet his dumbstruck wife’s. “What’s brought this on…” Y/n just about managed to muster. “That’s what the radio said last night. You’d announced and Dad was moving out that night.” Freddie muttered. “That is categorically not true.” Brian spoke up when words had failed y/n. “We respect you far more than to pull a stunt like that.” “Baby boys. We’d never do that to you. Last night, we had a really good chat actually and worked out a lot of things. We wanted to treat you both today because you deserve it.” Harry looked for support from his twin, but Freddie’s own hazel eyes were locked on his clasped hands in his lap. “The corners turned. We’re getting back to normal. I love you both.” Brian hopped in his driver’s seat but turned on his knees to grip one of each of their shoulders. “I love her. We’re a family unit, seven, when you count the big ones.” “Eight.” Harry said just loud enough for everyone to hear. He was fed up of serious conversation after serious conversation. “Can’t leave out Maggie.” “Yeah, dad, why so cruel to Maggie.” “You’re impossible.” Brian gave a laugh, mock choking each of them in turn before driving away, his hand on his wife's knee absentmindedly before her own covered it, as the two boys looked between themselves. “Lunch or no? Your shout?” “Can we visit the music store? I need new strings.” “You’re trying to tell me in our entire house, Harry May, you cannot find one set of guitar strings.” Brian heard his wife chuckle as she rolled her eyes. “Go on then. What about you, Freddie? What’s your plan to milk me of?” “I was thinking about some trainers… I’ve seen these rainbow ones…” he gave a shaking sigh. “I’d like to wear them to pride.” “Can I get a matching pair?” Brian laughed, not quite registering that something more was happening, but the atmosphere thickened again. “I’m gay.” He stated but the words rushed from his mouth as Harry held his breath looking ahead to see their parents’ reactions. “Okay… That doesn’t answer if I can get matching trainers though.” Two sets of caramel eyes meeting in the rear-view mirror. “You don’t care?” Freddie wiped a tear of relief as he felt his mums’ hand over his cheek, fully turned in her seat. “No baby… We love you for you.” “I’ll go to pride with you…” Harry offered his support, working out his brother was gay had taken place months ago but neither had the guts to flat out tell the other. “Me too, if your old mum isn’t too uncool. What do you say? Can we have matching rainbow family trainers.” “I guess so…” Freddie smiled, overjoyed but rolling his eyes at the ludicrous nature of this all.

”I did say this would happen… We did name him Freddie.” Brian smiled with a wink to his family. Brian May looked happy yesterday as he and his wife, Y/n May, took a spot of retail therapy with their twin sons and rescue dog. The family are pictured with a guitar case and multiple bags from a trendy clothing store. Brian kept his wife close as the pair have seemingly put the past behind them as they were pictured together for the first time in months. Our sources said they looked comfortable and content as they shopped around and took in lunch. The rocker happily signed a couple of autographs for staff before they left.