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philtstone · 9 months

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Aragorn/Arwen, 63

#63 -- tujhe dekha toh from dilwale dulhania le jeyenge ok so the soulmatism of it all had me going completely nuts (simrans waking dreams.....i need to lie down) & before i knew it i'd re-read their appendix had 3 literary analysis epiphanies and was neck deep in the wiki page on love death and meaning and the paradox of religion and nonreligion in tolkein i say all that like i didnt just write movie verse kidfic lol. ellie is a shortened version of "nethel" which means sister in sindarin. in a different time in my life i would have named every single one of canon girldad aragorns "many daughters" & also included 5 of them but alas, at this time i am Busy. so we'll pretend that the other 3 havent come along yet. arwen has magic powers she will be fine. enjoy!

“My lady Luthien!”

The words come into Arwen's dream in the common tongue, whispered and full of a child’s awe. He is speaking as if to himself — the text has surprised him, or perhaps absorbed him so that he does not realize his mouth is moving, disrupting the Sindarin read privately in his thoughts with an impulsive, delighted exclamation.

To Arwen it is just as mesmerizing. She cannot know why her dream has brought her here, to this garden of her father’s House she has sought refuge in so many a time. She knows him very little, this child, not ten in the years of Men and so very human about it, with lanky limbs folded up against himself to cradle the book and a mop of dark hair that falls down over his eyes and the very beginning of spots on his chin (of endless intrigue to Arwen, who has only ever seen skin unblemished).

She has not met him, but knows of him from her brothers’ letters: her father’s ward, sweet and grave and beloved amongst the Rivendell kindred as any novelty in the shape of a child might be. But Estel earns it, too. He is earning his presence in her dream in the same way, sat in the exact spot she always chooses, under bows of trees she has long considered friends. He earns it, though Arwen doesn’t quite know why he’s here.

Don’t you? ask her thoughts of her self, and she does not answer.

Years pass, and she is home again.

“My lady Luthien,” he says, as she comes toward him, and within his voice is a gentle embarrassment that still manages to tease.

Arwen, firm in her earlier, gentle rejection (he is far too young), cannot help but find this terribly charming anyway. It is just after dinner, and she has found him behind a pillar to the side of where they dine. He holds his cup in both hands. Until her appearance he was studying the carvings on one stone edifice to their side, and seems in every way his mortal age save one: there is a new and convoluted weight in his eyes that was not there in the early afternoon, when he called so clearly and sincerely to her. It seems to have entered like the broken branches of a sapling swept into a fast-moving stream after a storm.

“I should be greatly flattered, Estel, to be compared thus,” Arwen says, offering that weight a smile. Estel drops his eyes back to the pillar. He seems to start and stop a few times before actually opening his mouth, and when he does,

“I should like to still be called Estel, for a while yet,” and there is great vulnerability there, in his young man’s eyes. It sneaks into her breast and cups a hand over the breath she draws, and despite the glade, and his youth, and the Truth her father has now shared with him, she is compelled: Arwen’s own hand slides over his knuckles, and they are holding the cup together.

“I will,” she promises. “I do.”

On the edge of the last word do his eyes flick up to hers, canny in a way that sparks beneath her skin. He lives up to his name, she thinks then (not quite knowing why), and when she writes this to him after they have parted, in the letters they now share, he writes back: so do you.

Before Estel, her experience of Death was altogether different. She knew it first in abstraction and then in keen loss. Now she feels its imminance and urgency, in both grand and mundane ways.

For example, earlier this evening, Arwen thought she might die if she did not kiss him. It was a thought that crept over her swiftly, silent and keen as a fresh ice water brook spilling into open hands, very different from the thundering roar of the river spirits she had summoned to herself – until it was suddenly quite the same, roaring, and it must have shown in her eyes. In the late quiet of the night she came to her rooms and found him, there.

(She has long since known why.)

The employment of her tongue is not new, but pulls a murmur out of him regardless. “My lady Luthien,” he starts, speaking almost directly against her mouth, with a wry amusement that is not so unburdened as to be playful and not yet a warning, either, and then he is properly startled into, “Arwen —!” when her next kiss includes a bite. The rasp of beard against her chin is uncomfortable and delightful. She can feel the rumble of her small victory in his chest. Aragorn has always done so much with just the two syllables of her name.

When she has lost all breath she pulls away, and does not pant — sweet air made salty by urgency comes in and out of her lungs in discordant sighs — but her lips stay hot against his ear and she feels every press of his fingers against the slope of her waist, burning. She thinks of death again; she has fought it off. Twice in one week now, in very different ways.

Aragorn does pant, in his own way. He lets out a quiet gasp and drops his head against the side of hers, not trembling but finding some stronghold deep within himself that begets composure.

Slowly she begins to comb her fingers through the hair at his temple. In the dark alcove of her rooms (safe), they sway together.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, and she knows: tomorrow the council is held.

“I meant it, earlier,” says Arwen softly, into his hair. It has begun to grey, the strands too hidden yet to shimmer in the moonlight but there nonetheless. Every so often she will catch a glimpse of them and it will leave her wordless, and desperate to touch him. “Your fears are not the truth you think them to be.”

“Arwen.” She can hear the desperation that threatens to choke his own voice. Duty turns the peaceful twilight of her home into a foreboding shadow. There are two large warm hands on her face before she has noticed them move, and then she feels the wetness of her own cheeks: she had not realized she was crying.

“I did not know it would be so momentous to love,” she says, while he wipes at her tears with war-roughened, gentle fingers. So many things about Men are a paradox. So many things about this man.

“Meleth,” he says.

“I meant it.” She repeats herself. “I know who you are in my heart, Estel.”

“You do,” he allows her, and she is not certain he believes it to be enough. No matter, Arwen thinks: her own belief will sustain them. It must, long enough that he has hope for himself as well as for Men, and then they might cross through the door, to the other side of the Dark.

The Queen finds her husband in Faramir’s study, reading.

“My lady Luthien,” she is greeted, words threaded full of the subtle humour that has turned her head for over sixty years.

Arwen clasps her hands over the laden basket she packed without needing any kind of foresight and sighs thinly.

“I did expect, mel nin, that you had gone the whole day without food, but I had thought you would be found holding grave council, or visiting the head healer, or even – forgivably – in the stables. Instead, you are here, nose-deep in an ancient poem.”

“It did not come to you in a vision?” he asks, and raises his eyes just enough to catch hers from beneath his lashes. This does nothing to diminish the focus etched into his dark brow, nor the way he holds himself (always it calls to her – it does not matter the shape), nor the deep blue of his mantle sweeping against the floor; he has not paused to change since returning from the Southern Wall. Whatever peace he thinks his feigned innocence will win him, she cannot know.

“Your Steward told on you, my love.”

“Aaah,” his face falls, so dramatically it is amusing.

She holds up her basket. “I have lunch.”

“My beloved wife has developed the sensibilities of a Hobbit,” Aragorn says, in her people’s language.

“Hobbits are good and noble creatures,” she retorts. She always argues better with him in Sindarin anyhow, “and have traditions from which we might learn.” She arches a brow: “Estel.”

“I am eating,” protests Aragorn, somewhat weakly. “I mean – I will.”

“You might do so now. With me – there is no one else here.”

It is a potent suggestion, she does acknowledge. She watches him think about it, proud to note all the little tells which she has known since he was a barefaced and impulsive young man. The same canny look sparks under Arwen’s skin. Once, decades ago, she had met him in the wild woods beyond her father’s borders in a stolen moment between darkness and duty, and convinced him to bathe with her in the river. She remembers her joy at seeing his wet dark hair plastered all over his forehead. She remembers his own joy, and how it fought off the lonesome blanket of the gathering shadow.

“Your thoughts are of something I know,” Aragorn says now, suspicion arching his tone and narrowing his bright eyes, no longer that of a young man but still full of a life that thrills her. “Some joyful mischief that you’re going to coax me into again, no doubt.”

“There is sadly no river in the palace.”

“Aaah,” uttered in a very different tone from before. His eyebrows twitch out of their focused furrow and his face warms with the memory. He lowers his book a little. “Arwen …”

But he does not move from his spot behind the desk, so Arwen places her basket down and sweeps forward, intent. The silver in his hair streaks liberally now, and lines furrow down his cheeks when he laughs – often – but otherwise Aragorn remains mostly unchanged from the presence filling so little yet so much of the many years of Arwen’s memory. Affection rushes through her, swelling like the river, growing like the trees in Lorien. That glade, too, is a memory full of joy. He is much better suited to a beard, though. Arwen tells him this.

“So you have said many many times,” Aragorn says, chuckling. “I have no plans of removing it from my face, beloved.”

“I know,” Arwen hums. “I am only observing.”

Slowly she comes around the desk, on even steps, until they are very nearly touching and she can fold her hands over the top of his book. She takes a long moment to look at him, and though she in her chosen mortality no longer carries the same potency of power that Tinuviel’s blood held before, she conducts her habitual scan of his spirit, the truth of it ebbing through her fingers where they touch. Beyond her duties as Queen (of which there are many, and she both capable and willing) this is what Arwen knows most deeply in her heart how to do.

Finding Aragorn no more burdened than usual (though perhaps a little distracted) she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Ah –” he clears his throat and touches two long brown fingers to her arm. Unexpectedly, then, Aragorn stage whispers, “We are not … as alone as it seems.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Arwen, paused very close to his mouth, is compelled to whisper back.

And then,

“It’s alright!” comes a familiar little voice from seemingly nowhere, and all at once Arwen looks down to see the outside shape of the King’s voluminous cloak wriggle. Her mouth parts in surprise. The whisperer continues importantly, “You may kiss Ada if you like, Naneth. We are not looking!”

“Ssssshhh!” materializes a second, equally familiar little voice.

Arwen tilts her head, mystified, as her husband sets his expression into something communicating exclusively the secrets and patient indulgences of fatherhood. Then he jerks his chin towards the door, eyebrows raised and everything, not a moment before there sounds the sharp cadence of what can only be a young boy’s footsteps (and Arwen would know this boy’s as she knows her own heart) and into the library bursts their only son.

At the sight of his parents, Eldarion comes to an abrupt halt, and tries very hard to compose himself.

“Ahem,” he says, straightening. She sees the way his body moves to mimic his father, and also the grass stains on his knees, and the disheveled mop of his curls that means he has definitely spent the last hour running around in the gardens. Arwen is unbothered by this. “Hello Ada, hello Naneth. Have you – have you seen my sisters?”

The front of Aragorn stays conspicuously still.

“Your sisters?” asks Arwen, clasping her hands demurely before her.

“I am afraid my attention has been elsewhere,” says Aragorn gravely, holding aloft his book.

“Indeed,” adds Arwen. “So much so that he has forgotten to eat.”

Minutely, the cloak quivers.

“Hmmmm,” says Eldarion, lost in focus. “I must find them to create an alliance with the brave rangers in the North,” he speaks, almost as though to himself – he is really giving this quite a bit of thought. He is so absorbed that she could be in Rivendell again, drawn by a dream into her beloved, occupied glade … “For we must defend the townspeople but I cannot do it alone.”

Arwen blinks. Her heart is filled with tenderness.

“They have assigned you the role of orc again?” Aragorn is guessing, sympathetic.

Eldarion droops only a little before springing back up with full confidence. “Yes! But I am determined that we will create an alliance. I am a good orc, you see.”

With hasty goodbyes, he rushes away, taking the excitable sound of his footsteps with him.

A moment of quiet passes. Aragorn’s cloak begins giggling, so he spreads open his arms and herds them out one by one.

“You must go quietly now, down the hall and into the gardens,” whispers their father.

“Naneth,” begins their youngest, halfway out the room, “Naneth, do you think if we formed a nalliance –”

“An alliance,” corrects Aragorn, still whispering.

“Shhh,” interrupts the other, “or Eldarion will find us!”

“But he must be getting lonely!”

“Oh, ellie …”

Their little voices trail out of the door.

“I believe an alliance would work,” Aragorn offers Faramir’s many inert books, speaking at a normal register once more. The study now empty, Arwen turns back to her husband. His eyes are twinkling. She does not say anything, but moves toward him, as she has done so many times before, and lays her head to rest against his shoulder. In moments the book is tucked away, and the warm hands she knows so well are cradling her arms.

After a moment he says, “You are well? Arwen?” a gentle question in her ear. Arwen nods. She can now say what she knows, and why they are here:

She sustained them, and there was hope to be found.

Aragorn’s fingers rub over the gauzy sleeve of her dress. “Did you have your heart set on lunch?” he asks quietly.

“I did,” Arwen says, and turns to hold his eye. “I do.”

#i rewrote the ending 3 times to procrastinate posting this bc i am so Nervous #ive literally written them before but never like Seriously you know?#Thee Blueprint from when i was 8 years old....#my writing #spotify wrapped prompt meme #aragorn #arwen undomiel #aragorn x arwen #the lord of the rings #the tale of aragorn and arwen #lotr #lotrweek

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lesbianspeedy · 1 year

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Connor has called Ollie solely "dad" since Quiver why is he calling him "Ollie" now 😭😭😭

This is mean but I laughed out loud when Connor said Tim was the first person he talked about when he was figuring out being ace years ago. Lol. Lmao even. Tumblr really gaslit that poor writer into thinking Connor and Tim had an actual friendship with all their clamoring about him being with the wrong Bat huh. "Where were you?" GEE I didn't know you had to give daily updates to that one kid you teamed up a few times and had some friendly banter with. I love queer solidarity and the whole thing about us finding each other before we even know we're queer but. NO Connor would not have talks about his sexuality with Tim. Cmooooon you're telling me the first person he'd talk to about being ace wouldn't be Kyle "you can tell me if you're gay, Connor" Rayner?

At least that "this is just another thing me and Ollie don't have in common" anxiety is something already established. Like, that's basically the same thing he says to Roy when Roy takes him to that strip club even if it's an issue by Winick (do you ever stop to think about how unintentionally well laid out Connor being ace is and lose your mind a little bit?)

I'm just. Really sad about how Ollie and Connor's relationship is being presented to this new generation of readers. It's like we regressed to the time Ollie was dead, ya know? And I don't like Connor solely for his relationship with his dad, I want him to be a character on his own. But I can't help but being saddened by how he is losing his relationship with everyone that matters. For better or for worse, at least the new GA series is gonna have him interacting with his family (but what about Kyle, Eddie, Jansen and Moonday, ya know?)

The thing is that the story is good and I like its message. It just... Could be with any other character

im tempted to post this without an "answer" because its really well laid out and deserves to be a post on it's own. but i just rlly like ur points and want to interact with them so.

i think there were a few times between quiver and now where he interchangebly used dad and ollie but i get what you're saying, referring to him like hes estranged still was odd.

i totally agree, the idea of queer solidarity is important and should be shown, but i think this was a weird choice to go with. i think the most intimate (from my memory, i havent reread connor's run in a while) question connor ever asked tim was whether batman was his dad (at that time the answer was still no, as jack hadn't been killed yet). and that was only asked because connor was still his charmingly-awful-at-secret-identities-self. the part of their limited friendship that was interesting was the dynamic of new-sidekick-legacy meets new-main-legacy (for lack of a better descriptor), both struggling to uphold what they thought was expected of them. they never got to really advance from that stage of knowing each other to being at a place where they are friends out of costume, let alone discuss their SEXUALITIES.

i agree that the not being in common thing was a nice nod to past character complexities, though it felt slightly like it was the writer genuinely believing that to be true, and not just a rehash of connor's complicated feelings.

i know, its a weird stage we're at now, the resistence to fully accepting the connor that came from the end of his green arrow run, not just the beginning of it. by the end he had come to peace with being green arrow, and not being his father but that being okay. and that's not to say this is all the current writers fault (though williamson has done absolutely no favours with his writing), as winick and krul absolutely demolished any character connor had for their angst and whatever. (remember when connor aggressively yelled at mia for complaining about being stalked by zatanna without being told? or when after being turned into plastic and losing his memories he then decided he hated buddhism and oliver?). (not to mention the seperation from eddie jansen moonday kyle and. despite all of this complaining. tim cass and steph. winick set this precident and i will never forgive him)

i agree, it had good framework, and it couldve been a much more cohesive story if they. had just not used this friendship.

#connor hawke #green arrow #dc comics

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stars-and-guts · 1 month

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hey guyz its star or panic welcome back to another youtube video

im kind of a dude think of me as a diet man, they / he / star, a little bit bi. contrary to popular belief you are not allowed to call me by the name "sus" yet my friends do so anyway and i cannot stop them as we are all eldritch beings who can eliminate each other at any time

im 99.9% sure i have adhd and depression but im still on the journey of getting diagnosed, i reblog about those things fyi i am diagnosed with ocd and anxiety but those two things manifest less recently and are instead me being normally plagued with my not so normal actually kind of awful life

i like a lot of stuff my interests always change CURRENT BIG INTERESTS (last updated august 20 2024): PROJECT SEKAI, OSHI NO KO, POKEMON, VTUBERS ESP NIJIEN

i wont be interacting that much with nsfw seriously but there will be some freaky jokes !!

also the point of this blog is for me to find tumblr posts i found a few years ago at the peak of my tumblr usage (i didnt have an account then) and reblog them here because theyre funny. and i dont like having as many screenshots in my storage as i do rn. those posts will be in the archive set to roughly the date that i found the post but those dates are before i made this blog so you cant navigate to them- instead you get to scroll through my struggles in reverse chronological order

what else idk i joke about mental illness and suicide i block for petty and small reasons and i think the concept of cringe is dumb because why are we suddenly shaming people for expressing themselves im sorry are we actually a hivemind

ALSO. IF YOU ARE ON MY CUSTOM URL. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CLICK THE INFO TAG ON EVERY POST I AM FUNNIEST IN MY TAGS BUT DIDNT KNOW MY TAGS GET HIDDEN LIKE THAT IN THE THEME I PUT IN UNTIL AFTER I ADDED A LOT OF CUSTOMIZATION

pinterest: starsxandxguts youtube: stars-and-guts anything else i either havent touched since i made the acc OR its related to vtubers and doesnt have anything to do w/ this blog

IMAGES USED IN MY BLOG: piplup forgot are you lost background sorry i dont remember where my pfp of piplup laying in the sand is from

#ppanicposts #ppanicrblgs #ppanicasks #ppanicylist #pubescentppanic #ppanichaswords #ppanichastags

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thegeminisage · 1 year

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ok, i got about an hour and a half to play some zelda!!! i'm in rito village cuz i got my frog armor. my map says there's a chasm here so i'm gonna get some korok seeds and see if i can find it

god i miss kass.

i havent ben back here since i did the wind temple, so there's a lot of sidequests lol

ok, i NEVER would have found that chasm without help. the opening into the cave is SO tiny

off to a fantastic start. landed by a yiga hideout AND a lightroot!!

oh! it's isolated! i guess that makes sense cuz in the overworld it's surrounded by water. i was gearing up to do some Depths Exploring though, i kinda miss it??

i notice mineru didn't meet me. so she really is only in one little section until i do the dungeon. blegh

oh, it's not a proper yiga hideout, there's just a diary. something about a weapon with blue stone. PLEEEEASE be a timeshift stone please please please (guy who knows it wont actually be a timeshift stone)

CRYSTALLIZED ZONAI SHOP LETS FUCKING GOOO

aw and a schema stone

siren call of the depths: i kinda wanna explore more. i was gonna go back up to rito village and knock out some of those sidequests but fuck it

as with the overworld i have a lot of the eastern section knocked out and have barely touched the western half. so i guess i'll go clean up in the east. unfortunately i have not been marking ANY of my boss encounters bc i didnt want to look at this map too closely so i'll probably wind up doing them all again lol

i don't know, am i taking some of the joy of exploration out of the depths by looking at this map early? i guess so, but i don't want to forge on without it, and the internet has spoiled me for the whole thing anyway. besides, they're not detailed enough that you can really tell what it'll look like once you get there. i think some surprises will still remain

i am going to turn on hands i think lol. that's one surprise i DON'T want, not down here

i guess if things get too hairy or tedious i always have my bike...it's been so long since i learned about them, yet since then i've barely set foot down here at all. i was doing koroks. so it's been a REALLY long time since i've properly explored down here.

tiny dark spot by hateno so im starting there. warped to a nearby root and found the two new ones i need pretty much instantly without even using the spoiler map - they were just hidden behind a wall

i read somewehre that the weapons the ghost soldiers hold for you, the unrotted ones, will only be weapons you've already broken above. which is stupid cool but then WHYYY do i never get royal broadswords...they're my favorites...

another mine...i guess that's to be expected. why do they all have the names of the cities above though? like, hateno didn't exist throughout the ages, it wasnt in oot or whatever. you can't tell me every city in hyrule is 10,000 years old. i guess lin's sheikah slate is naming the mines and using the names of the villages it knows? but IT'S 10,000 years old too. i love totk but the way it breaks the lore is so fucking frustrating, especially since i was finally excited about the lore actually being COHESIVE for the first time after skyward sword.

ooh, this diary mentions a hidden yiga academy behind a waterfall in gerudo...i've been spoiled a bit for that questline too but i feel better that i found the tip organically

oh. i found a "researcher" lol

LMAOOOO she's asking me to pick my own demise. incred

good GOD what is that...i shouldn't have answered...i picked burny bc i actually hate freezy more but what in the name of god

i mean i killed her basically instantly but that was a little alarming! i wish i got a schema stone for one of THOSE

MORE refinery shopping. i already have enough for one battery upgrade and i'm close to getting a second

oop yeah there's upgrade #2

and another schema stone!

ok, doubling back to check and old map mark i missed...

GLOOM TREES BAD

oh it's cap of the sky! i actually already have one of those lol but i can sell this one

ok, let's see...there's a tiny dark spot under gut check rock, so i'll get that next...

i have like. 630 arrows lol and it's a good thing too bc i got spotted by a monster camp and just took them out from a tree

zonaite really isnt hard to collect...like, at first having to get 4000+ to max your battery seemed impossible. but the hard part is that the refineries don't sell a lot at once so you either have to warp around or wait to turn it all in lol

i like how weather attack makes food useful again? like i stopped making food to help me with heat or cold bc i had armor...BUT i can't have armor to defend me from the elements AND the attack up from the elements at the same time. if i want both, i need food for one or the other! it's very clever. now i need to be more mindful when cooking instead of just doing the same health and stamina refills over and over

i really hate how hard the lava air effect makes it to fucking SEE down here. jesus

killed a flux construct. sick nice etc

found a proper yiga hideout >:)

minecart tracks??? i want a cart too... :(

sadly lacking in cart to cart combat. 0/10 stars

ok, working my way down towards the spring of power. i want those bargainer statues lol

i like exploring the depth a lot better when shit is lit up. i didn't realize until now but it's exhausting not to be able to see ANYTHING. i think that's why i got so tired of it so quickly before, even though i was also having fun poking around. finding one light point after another is fun and that requires darkness but it's also really difficult to navigate the terrain when you can't see AND there's gloom

found my mf statue. i cant believe i walked right past these before...you wouldn't know they're there unless you're looking :/

YESSSSS HOOD OF THE DEPTHS...finally.................

i had almost 700 poes so i had plenty to buy with lol

ANOTHER yiga hideout!! have i done this one?? it looks familiar...

oh yep lmao i sure have. bummer. at least i can mark it off my map :/

ok, thats all i have time for!!!

#personal #loz blogging #totk lb #totk spoilers

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santademikey · 2 years

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‘memorial’ for the february prompts!!!

i havent written for ivy in a while so, enjoy!! <3

Somewhere, 2004.

“Daddy?” Ivy stirred awake, as Trevor turned off the truck’s overtired engine. They’d been on the road for hours. Days, even. Finally they’d stopped, in front of a shitty, rundown gas station in the middle of nowhere.

Trevor turned to his daughter perched in the seat besides him, wrapped in layer after layer of blankets. The air-con had backed up two states ago, fucking piece of shit.

“Yes, Trouble?” He tried his best to smile, but fell flat.

Ivy didn’t yet know it, but they hadn’t just lost Michael, but everything— and now, they had nothing apart from each other, a few boxes of photos and other meaningless shit, and the worn out truck they currently sat in.

She pointed out the window to the gas station, “Are you going in there?”

Trevor nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt. Normally he wouldn’t bother, but he had to at least try to set a good example for Ivy.

“You wanna come with?”

“Uh huh.” Ivy replied, trying to wriggle free from the mountain of blankets.

Trevor wouldn’t help but chuckle at the sight before him, as he stepped out from the truck and opened the door that led to his daughter.

“C’mere.” He said, managing to break Ivy free. The warmness from the blankets must have worn off fast, as he noticed her shiver.

He hurriedly took of his coat, wrapping it around her. It completely engulfed her, and Trevor was now absolutely freezing— but unlike he did in his childhood, Ivy came first.

He helped her out of the truck, grabbed a hold of her hand, and the two of them strolled into the station.

—

“Fireworks, Daddy!” Ivy called out, practically dragging Trevor over to a small, hazardous looking display.

She turned so that she was looking up at him— her big, bright green eyes staring straight into his muddy brown ones.

“Can we get some?” She asked.

He opened his mouth to say “No, sorry.”, then shut it. Ivy had unintentionally given him an idea.

“Sure.”

—

It was now dark out, and, after pulling off the highway and into some random field, Trevor was now lighting a firework— or five, in Michael’s name.

“Stay back, Vi.” He struggled to get his lighter going, “These things are dangerous.”

“Then why are you so close to it?” Ivy sassed, obeying her father and stepping back.

Trevor, paused, looked up from the fireworks and his bastard lighter and answered, “Because I know how to stay safe around ‘em.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” Trevor replied triumphantly. His lighter now had a flame glowing from it.

Ivy curiously breathed, “How?”

“By running away from when it’s lit!” Trevor proclaimed, sprinting away from the firework.

As it went off, both he and Ivy fell silent, watching in awe as the sky lit up in bright colours. As a blue firework exploded, Trevor smirked solemnly.

“You’ll always be in my heart, Mikey.” He thought to himself, his eyes filling with tears.

(x)

#AAAA I. FUCKIN HATE IT #i dont know if this fits into the prompt. but it was nice to go back to vi!#thank you soph!!! :)#oc: vivienne (ivy)

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xiuminscheeks · 9 months

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WOOO new ep yet again :D and im on time too! Last ask i sent was a couple days after the ep aired, cos it took me a while to get round to watching it 😅 anyway ok so:

-How did mr lee get away w that. How did mr jin just accept him pulling a sword on him like WHAT sldjksk. in what world would he not be terrified or at least concerned. Or call for help or something? He just walks off????

Then when he does bring it up its like ahhh he just seemed kinda off yknow? LIKE YEAH he threatened to kill you with a fucking sword in his hand T.T

-GIRL cover your mouth when you cough...

-The snuggling is so soft goddamit, and im a sucker for a sick character being gently taken care of >.< theyre so endlessly sweet ARGH i need someone to cuddle. Where is a guy supposed to find a man like eunwoo in this economy tho. Sigh

-Please..PLEASE cover your mouth when you cough i beg. The whole lot of them theyre just as bad as each other help

-Yul: "ah with your superior instincts youve sensed theyre dating 😌 theyve been trying to keep it a secret, so keep quiet please 😉"

Min ji: "😐"

Yul: *silently, but with a lot of emotion* "..fuck"

-FUCK YEAH MORE HISTORICAL FLASHBACKS!!!!

-Are we finally gonna get the backstory... i bet its gonna be a misunderstanding plot how much do we wanne bet its a miscommunication plot. They've set up mr lee/mountain spirit too kindly to have him be a full villain i feel. Like they show an equal amount of moments that paint him in a positive light to ones that portray him as a villain. So its gotta be something like a miscommunication plot or a 'redeemed at the final moment of death' or some shit, i can feel it.. (and if im wrong. Well fuck me lol)

-Aw even back in time they were fucking adorable. But I have to say the mountain spirit romance plot takes the cake this episode for me, the tsundere storyline always wins 😔 im easy to please,,, now if only they couldve stayed happy on the mountain with the puppy kid T.T altho it feels weird when translated to the modern day cos while she was a married woman in the flashback shes a whole student in present day 💀

-But i am endlessly charmed by the mountain spirit and his pretty brown eyes and his trying so hard not to get attached to the fragile mortals <3 Also i think i reaallllly vibe with the historical aspect so ill pick up a historical drama from your list next (i still havent started another one yet sksjsk)

-My misunderstanding plot theory gains momentum! Mountain spirit looked away for literally the exact second she got stabbed and just assumes it was the dude like. I mean i get it but gAHHhhh!!

-Now now mountain spirit. Step away from the dog. Please dont kill the dOG-.... Ah.. Too late ... (unrelated but why is the vet sleeping at the animal hospital sksjsj? Protestant work ethic strikes again)

-So anyway this episode was made just to make me fall deeper in love with mr mountain spirit 😔 and im really looking forward to confict and confrontations next episode >:] (also thank you for the new recs!!! Ive added them to my list ^.^)

- 🌱

henlo! its always so fun reading your asks!!!!

pls, the coughing with the mouth open had me so mad afsfgsg i cant stand that. at least we got cute ass snuggling tho, so I felt better

the flashbacks had beautiful cinematography and we finally got some answers! the mountain spirit is cute :( he really has such pretty puppy eyes.

I agree that something major happened when he looked away. my theory is that she shaman girl will remember what really happened and let him know, and end that 200 year beef.

also, I'm pretty sure that the uncle wont die. I feel like he wll return to his human form, cause the mountain spirit will break the curse.

2 more days for the new ep!!

#🌱 anon

0 notes

mitsutsum · 3 years

Text

mitsu is thinking about… xiao being needy

xiao x gn!reader | idk what to tag tbh, its just general stuff with top reader and teasing.. they dont actually do it lol

minors dni

────────────────────────

Pathetic, the entire situation was pathetic. Or thats what Xiao thought. Adepti were more superior than mortals, yet hes getting needy just because of some mere human? He had never been so, dissapointed. But that doesnt mean that he wont stop himself from asking you for help. You didnt expect this to happen either.

Xiao spotted you in the harbor. You were carrying several books trying to help your friend. He went wherever you were and pulled you to a more quiet and secluded area from the noisy streets of harbor.

“X— Xiao?!”

“Shh, shh.. Dont be too loud.” Putting his index closer to your mouth. Your expression changing from shock to a more calmer one. You removed his hand from your lips. You have so many questions yet so little answers. Why in the world is Xiao here?

“Whats up with you?” Asking, gripping on the books you were holding earlier closer to you. “This is so, unlike of you. You never go to the harbor..” Averting your gaze from his eyes, you still feel him staring right straight into your soul. He remains silent, he took the books and placed them on the ground. Grabbing one of your hands by the wrist and guiding it to his chest.

“I dont know, but I need you. The feeling is there again and I cant get it out on my own.”

“Alright, lets just go to somewhere more,” Looking at your right, where you were last seen. “—private. We wouldnt want to be caught now do we?” Right after, he brought both of you to your shared bedroom.

Once you arrived, you kissed him as fast as you can. He didnt even have the time to say anything, it all happened in a flash. You went closer and closer, until Xiao’s feet hit the bed. Pushing him down, you continued your kisses, now going all the way from his shoulders to his stomach.

His breathing hitched when he felt you were near the area he needed you most. He needs you to touch him already.

“Aw, poor baby must’ve been so worked up hm?” Xiao nods, letting out a small whimper when you began to palm him through his clothes.

“Please just..”

“I know, I know. Just be patient for me okay?”

────────────────────────

mitsu announces !! yahoo, first post of the acc, i havent wrote smut in like 2 years …… its been so long ahhh,

#genshin smut #xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x reader smut #xiao smut #xiao x gn!reader smut #xiao x top!reader #genshin xiao #genshin impact smut #mitsu writes

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thenotsohottopic · 3 years

Note

Hey 🍄 annon here Ik im annoying but anyone with a kid who just can't take care of themself they suck at it but they can provide for thier fanbase(let's say they stream or do YouTube or make music you choose okay) dispite suffering they just want to make others and thier fanbase happy

[lmao I'm sick but I hope you're doing well]

Go To Sleep

character(s): Cc!Nihachu + cc!Karl & teen!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

warning(s): swearing, mentions of sleeping troubles, mentions of lack of self care

Nihachu

You were spending the night with at Niki's house since your parents were out of town for the night. The two of you have been sitting on the floor infront of her bed for a while, she was watching a movie while you were trying to figure out a plan for your upcoming video.

Though her attention wasn't on the show, "Y/n are you ok? you seem awfully tired," Niki asked as she stared at you with a worried expression.

"Hm?" You asked as you looked away from the notebook that was in your hands.

"are you ok?" Nihachu asked once more as she moved her hand to your shoulder. "there's bags under your eyes, have you been sleeping properly?"

"Oh, no it's ok." You brushed her off, adding a smile into it. "I didn't sleep too well last night, that's all."

Niki nodded and stood up, holding her hand out for you to take. "Well let get you to sleep then. You're a growing child, you need sleep."

"I can't sleep yet, I have to get this planned out and stuff." you explained when holding up your notebook.

Niki sighed and took the notes out of your hands, "it can wait. you're health is more important."

"but I promised eve-"

"no! sleep." she ordered and you hugged in slight annoyance. However, on the inside you were happy that she cared.

Karl

You groaned as you tried to get the one chord right. You've been trying for hours but you couldn't quite get it and it was starting to annoy the shit out of you.

Your schedule was fucked.

You barely ever slept anymore, getting an average of about 4 hours each night, and that if you even fell asleep. You were so busy with school work and trying to get this song prepared you hadn't been able to take care of yourself the way you should've from all tee stress. Plus you cried for at least an hour each day out of frustration.

Your phone started ringing, having reached for it you saw Karl's caller ID.

"Hello?" you said, your voice much more hoarse than you wanted it to be.

"You ok there, Bug?" Karl asked with concernaced in his voice. You smiled at the nickname he gave you. You weren't sure as to why, but Karl had practically adopted you. You weren't complaining though you felt safe around him. Of course you would never tell him this, you wouldn't have the guts to express how much you looked up to the man.

"ya, I'm fine." you answered, trying to hide the extreme tiredness evident in their voice.

Karl frowned, "you sound awful, what's wrong?"

You signed, "nothing. I just havent been able to get a good amount of sleep lately with school and me trying to get my new song out."

"Thats not nothing, have you eaten today? drank water?"

"I'm not sure-" you yawned, trying to rub the tirness out of your eyes.

"I'm coming over." Karl stated, and before you could tell him no he hung up.

That day, Karl spent the day getting you to rest and eat. No matter how hard you tryed to stop him it didn't work. He wanted t care for you, having he felt responsible for your health.

That night when he tucked you in you actually told him how thankful you were to have him as a role model, having made that night the best for him.

NO 🍄 ANON ILY SM! you are not annoying and I hope any other person that said this to you chokes on thumbtacks <3

#mcyt imagine #dsmp x reader #dsmp x you #dsmp x y/n #mcyt x reader fluff #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #karl x reader #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x y/n #platonic x reader #platonic karl x reader #x reader #reader insert #nihachu x you #nihachu x y/n #nihachu x reader #platonic nihachu

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peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

perennial;tom holland|eighteen.

chapter eighteen: yellow pansy ↳ flower meanings: thinking of you.

chapter summary: you left a journal in his top drawer. pairing: tom holland x y/n warnings: haha you’re going to HATE ME word count: 11.5K

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

it took me ages write this, my writersblock was awful BUT IT’S HERE ! We are missing one more chapter but here it is! I hope you don’t hate me as much as I think you will, I split the ending in two chapters because it was LONG, so expect the final chapter in these days

Please help me out reblogging tags havent been working for me and I know this will flop but I’m really happy I got back into writing

You kept a journal. With flowers printed on them. Each and every single one was given by him. You had recently remembered it, wondering where in your room it could be. Hidden behind some other lost forgotten memories or some other unforgettable mysteries. You wondered if the flowers had kept their color. Most of them hadn’t.

“Well, here goes to the happily ever after,” you said as you smiled, even when the notebook was still roaming your mind.

Tim offered a gentle smile, watching carefully, as the white dress fell down.

When it comes to love stories, happy endings are what we wish for. Life, unfortunately, isn’t like that. But often we are bombarded with stories that are just too good to be true, enough for us to believe this. With them down the sunset on a white horse. With prince charming being charming enough.

With Mister Darcy as the sun is rising telling Elizabeth “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”

With Donna and Sam getting married, and a bunch of friends singing Abba songs.

With Noah and Ally peacefully drifting off, hand in hand.

With Baby and Johnny Castle dancing together.

Characters that are but a reflection of our deepest dreams. Ones that are kept secret and shut for the world. With stories that make us believe we are happy.

It’s fine to shield in. But it’s no good to dwell on them.

We often don’t get what we wish for when we shield in a dream.

You wondered, what about Valerie and William?

Or… Tom and Y/n?

Your own story was supposed to be kept a secret, yet it ended up being a script and then a movie that would be seen by thousands. Your story transformed into a story people could shield on. A story that had been merely sentiments, then words and a very bad misunderstanding and… then a film.

Seeing yourself on someone else might have been what helped you understand it. Transforming your story into characters and trying to portray a love story that was born out of hatred… had probably been the first mistake.

If we can say it was ever a mistake. How big of a mistake can it be when it brings you so much joy?

Your luck hadn’t been enough for your own faith. But you always wondered, what happens after the happily ever after? Is it truly the outcome? When two souls find each other? Isn’t it only the beginning?

Valerie and William hadn’t had it.

The story ended with Valerie and Robbie getting together, it fit. That’s how the story had been driven. Tom and you had discussed it over and over, the story was written for Valerie to end up with Robbie.

“This is a story, y/n, it’s not us.” He had assured you. “We need to disconnect from it.”

And it wasn’t. It wasn’t you. But how much had those characters stolen from you?

How disappointing, but you made the decision along with them.

It had been painful to relive some things, and the changes to the script had been made to soothe the pain.

But they had a happily ever after. Separate ways.

Who would’ve thought you’d be so right?

Films and stories often end when marriage comes, or when the couple finally gets together, the happily ever after. You barely believed it was the ending.

Because the real journey began with it. Doesn’t it? Isn't the true adventure when they find each other?

When something goes wrong, though, it means the journey isn’t over. The happily ever after is the ending isn’t it? Isn’t the story over until after they’re happily ever after?

Love, though it might be one of the most precious things, often comes with a heartbreak. A tragedy. It didn't hurt this time, though.

But love, when it’s real, doesn’t seem like a loss even if it ends. Because, isn’t it the ending when they finally are together? If we follow that rule, that the ending is when they’re together then it wasn’t the ending.

Or was it?

You couldn’t help but wonder, however…What if you lived a lie? Just a fairy tale that wasn’t supposed to have a happily ever after.

Though the script was far from reality, you felt like your own story was twisted. Why weren’t you in your ‘happily ever after’?

Maybe the side story was yours. Because you were not the princess about to walk into the sunset.

“I really love the dress,” Tim commented.

You did too, but it had you wondering about happily ever after?

What happens to them after the credit rolls? What happens to the characters when the last page ends? Are those characters strong enough to keep together? Are their stories just dried out? Like flowers. Easily forgotten in a journal hidden in your room.

A bouquet that once served as a beautiful symbol now was scattered on top of the shelf, as a few petals fell down.

Flowers dry out.

“Yes, magnificent,” you answered.

The dress made you remember the day you thought it would last forever. That Tom and you would have that ever after. That it wouldn’t dry out.

Tom had only looked up at you, sitting finally on a director chair and he had smiled. Gently. Caring.

And that thought came to your mind. “I hope this lasts forever.”

And for a moment you thought it could. Maybe it was the endless smiles or the constant yellow flowers adorning your room that would end up on your journal.

But nothing ever does last forever. Not the good things. Not pancakes, or ice cream, or street hot dogs. Moments don’t last forever, that’s why you have to grasp to them.

And there was a point at which you knew, you knew it wouldn’t last forever. Because the film continues.

However, you liked to think that love was like a flower. One that grows. Not one that is cut to be given. A perennial one. One that blooms, and continues to bloom when it’s taken care of. But perennial flowers don’t bloom all the time.

A flower can’t bloom for eternity. And a cut flower will not preserve.

In stories and films, we know detail by detail. From the very first word, to the last breath. But when it comes to your own, you often forget what is important. We barely stop to see, and suddenly, life escapes from your hands and you’re stuck in a moment and you can’t get out.

Before you know it, all you’re left with is a script and a movie you can’t bear to watch because it brings too many memories. But good ones, that is. Mostly good.

Before you know it, you have a box with his stuff, and you’re texting to see when you have to drop them off. And before you know it, he is standing there, and you’re hoping he will beg for one last time because you will give it, but he never does, and stays quiet. Too quiet.

Not every love is perennial. Not every love is meant to bloom again.

Perennial flowers, when they bloom, are the most wonderful. But when they’re away, the skies are gray.

But somehow, we go through it. At least you tried to.

The ‘what if’ comes as something complicated. No pillow talks would’ve helped your case, it seemed like any smiles were now hidden under the bed.

It’s needless to say and regard the multiple emotions that had gone by in the relationship, that week it started or that month it finished. That year, if we are honest. That whole year of your relationship. And you had to look back at it. For it all started in a breakup, that had opened the door to be with the love of your life. It all started with a revenge.

It was weird to see it. How a year before you dated Tom, you would have gone with Tim. How you had expected it, how you thought Tim was the endgame. How that year Harry had asked if you would marry Tim and you’d answered that maybe you would.

How at some point you had considered it again. How you even considered Harry. But Tim.

Had Tim waited for a little bit longer, maybe things would’ve turned out quite different. You were thankful he hadn’t. Tim and you were a lesson to each other. Tim had shown you you can be loved and you had shown Tim he can love. Tim and you were fine now, he had found a girl. Lily. Her name was Lily. Purity. Rebirth.

Because, although it had seemed that Tim had died a little with your last conversation before officially letting him go, he had seen himself shine again. How surprising, her name was Lily. Such a coincidence.

Lily, a girl that could easily be passed by. Yet Tim had stopped to see her.

Tim and you would never share what you both said in that conversation. The last flower he had given you was a daisy. A secret between two friends.

Cherry and you went back to what you were before, strangers to each other. But she’d found a girl, by luck. Heather. She was happy now. Happiest.

A year had gone by. Many things had changed. Mostly you, and though you would look back to your past self and warn her that another heartbreak by Tom would be coming, you wouldn’t change it.

A breakup had opened many doors.

Maybe this one would too.

It was bound to come. How on earth were you supposed to grow flowers on a battlefield? But you’d built it together.

And you had. And everything was good, with sunsets and polaroids, and flowers. And fights that would cycle and cyle. But end up cuddling watching reruns of an old 80’s tv show that you barely watched because you were too busy staring into his eyes.

With old fights that would resurface and other secrets that kept chasing you both. But it was good, when you were trying to get the garden back into place, to try and forget the battlefield. Loving him had come so easily, though. Waking up by his side was taken for granted.

You had thought loving him would be a buzzing street, with crowds bustling as the rain is about to begin. You thought loving him would be a Friday night waiting for someone to show up but never did.

You were wrong.

Loving him was walking through a flower field, and taking a Polaroid of the most beautiful sunset. Loving him meant holding his hand and kissing over and over again.

But loving him meant that the sun eventually would set.

And maybe the heartbreak that had come with this one hadn’t been an actual heartbreak and maybe that’s why it hurt. Because it didn’t.

Maybe you’d forged a heartbreak or a relationship. Maybe that had been it, conning yourselves into believing you were fine when you were far from it.

Looking back maybe it was because of Rome, New York, and eventually LA. Cities that you once said you wouldn’t dare to go back to. But now you are willing to visit. Happily, it’s better to walk in a city full of memories rather than one pointless illusion of the memories you could’ve had.

He had gone to New York, and still took his Polaroid everywhere. A habit you loved about him, it seemed he became an expert on holding onto memories.

The breakup had come after James’ wedding. Lovely wedding, by the way. Fairytale full of wonder. A year ago, shortly after the film had premiered, a year after it finished filming.

It was supposed to come. Because when your own brother was finding his way, you had lost yours.

But what happened? When did life slip in? When did it start ending?

Before you knew it, you had packed your stuff without you being aware of it. You had packed everything up, except your own heart. You left your heart right there, right next to that stupid journal, in his upper drawer, right next to his bed. Had he opened that drawer ever since or had he forgotten about it?

There was your journal, not in your room. In his. And he hadn’t given it back.That’s why you felt lost. Your heart was imprinted there and he hadn’t given it back.

But you had packed everything else, with him not even trying to stop you. Just watching you circle around.

Was it fear? Maybe it had been fear, from both. You supposed that’s how life was. Loving was not a duty.

You only had one request for him, one last request: “Remember me, I was the one to love you, and I was the one to call in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep. Just remember me when we’re no longer here.”

Because it hadn’t been your fault, your life just slipped in. Distance. No time for calls. Your job getting too much recognition, his job getting even more. Fights that were only to push each other away so it wouldn’t hurt when you both were away. Maybe being enemies had come useful when it was supposed to end.

Fight, and more fights in the end. Yet you were gripping each other. And life had just slipped in. Like it always does.

And it wasn’t him. And it wasn’t you.

“Tell me you actually want it to end,” he had asked when you had the final box.

You didn’t. But there wasn’t much you could do, expect walk out the doors.

Or was there? But even if it was a breakup, you both agreed to remain friends, and then it transformed into little excuses to see each other.

Because it didn’t end up badly. It had been life slipping in. With barely having any time for something that needed too much time to build on.

Filming initially had helped you, how beautiful it was creating it, what a beautiful outcome it had been out of your heartbreak. With music, and fights and everything that was splendid.

Maybe the film wasn’t a huge success, but it had been enough for you both to try and mend it after.

But when filming had ended and you had to go back, that’s when the problems started. His job, your new one. Him there, you here. When you were together, it was amazing, worth it. But then you barely could. And you could barely grip each other.

Then you were too different. Then you were just the same, so stubborn and stupid.

Then it was old arguments, and new ones.

When was it gone? Had he stopped loving you?

He had asked you, near the end. “Do you still love me? Are we still enough?”

“I do love you.” But you hadn’t answered the second question. And what was it? Why wasn’t it? “Why wouldn’t we?” you had questioned.

“Dunno, it’s delicate.”

It was.

Maybe it had been James’ words for Clark. About how love shouldn’t be forced, how love should be simple and love shouldn’t be hurt. About how they built it together. How it wasn’t easy, but it wasn’t complicated.

And then Clark had said it, too. How he loved being with someone that he enjoyed silence with. How love was more than passion. How love was more than a kiss. Seeing how simple it had been for them, was a bit disappointing for you both. Your relationship was anything but simple.

And it wasn't now because you didn’t trust each other, or because you wanted to fight. No, it simply was life telling you, you shouldn’t be together. And maybe it was also the fact that you both thought you worked because you had never experienced silence together. Always a wreck. Always a mess. Always so passionate. But… was it only that? Maybe it was the passion of the moment.

You knew Tom still played the conversation with Tim over and over in his head. How by the end he said he felt guilty by it all.

You too, you were both driven by guilt and guilt eventually snaps you.

So it ended.

“Is it too soon to end this?” You had asked him.

Tom had shrugged. “Would you rather it be late?”

But that didn’t mean you… had to stop seeing each other. Or did it? So you based your new relationship on excuses. And the excuses had grown. ‘I need to give you this hoodie’, ‘I forgot my charger at your place’ ‘I need someone to drive me to do errands’, ‘I need help running lines’, ‘I need a date for this party.’

And then they didn’t even make sense. ‘I can’t open a jar’ ‘I can’t watch this movie alone’ ‘I need to rant about the ending of this series’ ‘I sneezed and no one blessed me’. Stupid things. And then it was the truth ‘I need to listen to your voice’. ‘I miss you’. ‘I want to see you’.

But it was only seeing each other, with no… relationship. No kissing, no anything. Only excuses. A… friendship.

True friendship, for the first time ever. And you could talk for hours with him until the sun came out, and you could laugh with him.

Maybe it hurt that it wasn’t more, but maybe it was never meant to be like that. But you were in a good place. In the best place you had been. The strongest you had both been, too. How civil you were with clothes on. And how many times had you stopped your will to undress him.

Your lips searched for his but they never got what they wanted, your hands hurt from keeping them to yourself, and your heart would only ache a bit.

From both sides.

Seemed that both of you knew what you had to build up on. And maybe you both knew the risk that would come if you were willing to give it a try without having something to settle on.

Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt. Because it would bloom again, right? Maybe you were preparing the dirt to plant it in. Not loose flowers now. Have seeds.

Or that’s the idea you built yourself into. Because honestly. Had you ever been more than enemies with benefits?

But now, you were friends. Good friends. Maybe you were in love with him, and grown fonder of him now. Really, really in love. But friends. Friends who stared a little bit too much into each other’s eyes, or friends who would easily recognize each other’s laughter. Friends who would have their feet up the headboard and talk about life. Friends who instinctively would give the other a bite of their food or offer a sip of their drink.

Friends who would take a deep breath each time the other walked into the room, and friends who avoided getting too close that it would be mistaken for something else. Secret moments. Standing on the other sides of the room, turning your head away each time your eyes met.

Maybe you didn’t get the happy ending you wished for, or not the one you had expected to.

But you were happy. And it had ended. Those things were unrelated.

But a lot had changed.

Ay first, you had to fight the urge to undress him. Now you had to fight the urge to stare too long into his smile.

Really, a lot had changed.

Tom had started dating someone else, you didn’t know how long that lasted. You had pretended not to care, although you did.

You went out on dates, too. Didn’t inform him, either. Not explicitly. Though he did know.

Because you were friends. That was the happy ending you deserved.

A lot had changed.

And you were currently helping a bride tie that bow in her dress as she stared at her reflection. Her hair hung to her shoulders and half of it was tied with perfect braids. She was finally having her happy ending.

“Are you ready for the veil?” Timmy asked, as he watched the reflection of the bride.

“Can you give me a bloody second, Timothée?” Emma snapped with her usual tone. “I’m fucking busy right now, the veil can wait, don’t be a dick.”

You only held your laughter eyeing Tim. Tim and you had stopped looking at each other like you felt guilty for a while now. Tom’s jealousy had not exactly been driven away, you guessed it never would go.

But surprisingly enough, they became...friends. Or they could stand each other now after James had talked to both of them.

James and the married life that seemed to suit him. His wedding had been very small, but charming nonetheless. You wondered if you would’ve had something like that, very personal.

Quite a different story from Emma and Harry now. Whose love had conquered. And they had had a rough patch but how difficult can it be when you find your soulmate?

Maybe Harry and Emma had Tom and you doubting too. Tom and you had seen several times that you were not meant to be. Your coincidences in life had not been so, rarely coincidences but the both of you fighting for something. Too stubborn to admit that life was getting in the way.

Tom and you had all the odds in your favor and the ones to fuck it up were you both.

While Harry and Emma always had everything against them and they managed to work it out.

Who’re the soulmates here?

“What a lovely thing the blushing bride is, eh?” Tim rolled his eyes.

Emma had been… quite the bride. Everything had to be perfect, which was not likely for Emma to be that way. But she did say it, since she was marrying the love of her life it had to be big enough. In a rustic hotel, full of books and vintage furniture. A very cottage-like wedding. Very Emma and Harry. Unique.

It was perfect.

It had to, honestly. After the crossroads… everything had changed for them.

How Emma and Harry got back together was no mystery, Harry had been brave enough to go for her. When two souls are meant to be even the rockiest path will be easy to travel by.

It was the opposite of what you and Tom used to have. Emma and Harry had all the friendship, relationship settled, they just missed… the passion.

And so when they found each other, and were like two horny teenagers running around, it became...so effortless. Because they had something built upon.

As if life was rewarding them for their patience. For the love they shared. For each and every smile.

Both wild flowers, Often disregarded, had found each other, and created the most beautiful bouquet.

You only chuckled at Tim’s remark. “Splendid bride.”

While you and Tom had never been friends. Only too driven by the other, and passion and… when it ended? What were you? Were you merely nightly romance?

Tim groaned. “Emma—“he raised the veil. “I’m not trying to—I just think you should be wearing this already.”

“Shut up,” Emma granted. “I will but right now I’m—“

“Staring at your reflection?” Tim challenged. Because Emma was actually just doing that. Staring at the perfect dress she was wearing. Shining brightly like a diamond against the sun, her skin perfectly sparkled.

Emma looked for your glance in the mirror,”y/n, love.”

“Yes?”

“As my maid of honor, what are you willing to do?”

You offered her a grin, “Anything.”

Emma stared into your eyes. “Kill Timothée.”

You chuckled, “Almost anything, you should’ve asked earlier. I don’t want to get blood in my dress.”

Tim was surprised by your words. “So you would’ve?”

“Possibly, I don’t want to encounter a bridezilla Emma.”

Timmy threw his hands in the air. “I just want to help.”

“Well, don’t,” Emma and you said at the same time.

“I’m going to check on the guys, I am one hundredth percent sure they’re still in their pj’s drinking beer,” You commented.

The hotel room for the boy’s was only a floor below. It was everything Harry and Emma had probably wished for. An outdoor wedding that was planned to the very perfection. Very fairytale like. Lights hanging from trees, flower petals covering the aisle, daisies as the centerpieces, and daisies in Emma’s hands. Emma’s dream had always been an outdoor wedding.

When speaking with Emma and Harry both had stated that they made the decision not to give up. Always leaving you to wonder.

There was a part of you that was blinded by desirous thoughts. Had it been a mistake? To conclude a relationship that you had fought so long for?

Lately it had been.

You made your way to the elevator and as it opened you found a familiar face. He seemed uneasy, though.

“Y/N!” His voice was only a confirmation to his precarious state.

Your cheeks furrowed as you smiled, “Clark, hi!”

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a hug, a very nervous hug. as you stepped into the elevator. “Fuck, you look stunning. Loving the flowers on the hair.”

The dress was absolutely stunning, you had to give in that Emma’s taste was remarkable. Sky blue had been her color choice, to match with the flowers. Daisies and hydrangeas. Innocence and beauty.

It was ironic, a bit. You’d helped her with the flowers, and initially she had like sunflowers. As if it had been sntached from you. Maybe it was destiny laughing in your face. Yet she’d gone for the delicate hydrangeas.

“Thanks, Emma’s idea,” you grinned. “Where are you—“

“Oh eh, with the other boys,” he said as you pressed the button. He was shaking.

“So, what’s got you all flustered?” You questioned.

You could see Clark sweating. “Hm?”

“What’s got you all flustered?” You questioned, again.

He didn’t give you an answer. “Clark?”

Clark bit his lip. It was never usual for Clark to be anxious or to hide thoughts for himself. The man was always certain of his thoughts and actions. There was probably a calamity waiting for you.

“I—I am only the messenger,” he said, “I was actually looking for—Tim but—“

There it was. “But?”

“I think you might be of more help,” Clark admitted.

“Clark?” Your brows furrowed as the elevator door opened. He only offered a nervous smile as he licked his lips.

You saw Tom at the end of the hallway, on a call, shirt buttoned half way, his other hand running through his hair, he looked troubled. You were hoping his eyes would meet yours. Ever since the wedding was approaching he had been inattentive. Maybe the wedding hurt as much. It had been so hard for him to switch from lovers to friends. Did he ever stop and wonder if you guys could’ve had one? Did Tom also hindered with painful thoughts of how everything had so carelessly ended?

Lately it was all you had in your mind, how you felt ready. Or maybe it was the pressure that the wedding was giving you. And just as you started getting closer, Tom had backed away without a warning.

James was just getting out of the room, mid hallway. Your brother seemed to be as stressed. The tie around his neck barely covering it, his hair was scrunched. James’ eyes crossed with yours and then went straight to his husband’s.

“You brought y/n?” James pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, fuck it,” he looked at his watch. “Yes, you might be more helpful,” James said as he gestured with his hand to come over.

There was clearly something going on. You eyed Tom, who still was not aware you were there.

“I—Sam, no, no, I’ll—I can’t stay here, fuck I have his phone here—“You heard him say before James had dragged you into the room.

You approached your brother. “What is going on?”

“We—couldn’t find Harry’s tie,” James explained.

A tie? This was all of it? This whole catastrophe was for a tie?

“Can't any of you give him yours?” You frowned. It was no surprise that they hadn’t come up with a solution to such a simple problem, you could not expect less from men.

James rolled his eyes. “So he went to search for it about an hour ago but he fucking left his phone here and—“

Then you understood what was going on. “Where’s Harry?” You closed your eyes.

James gulped. “That’s—the thing.”

“Where is Harry?” You questioned, again.

Clark cleared his throat. “We don’t—know.”

Oh, so you were fucked. “Whose stupid idea was—?”

“Well, Dad told me he left home about 40 minutes ago and he didn’t see him at home, Sam hasn’t found him—Their fucking twin telepathy thing is broken, I guess—“Tom had walked in staring at his phone, loudly explaining his previous conversation. “Oh—hi, y/n.”

“Hi.” It was rutinary, for both of you. To just—stop when the other walked into a room. You blushed. Only noticing until then how handsome he looked. Seemed you hadn’t realized how badly you wanted him. In the most innocent way, in the way that you only wanted to offer him your heart. In the way that you only wanted the sole confirmation that he still loved you. In the way you wanted to be the reason for his smile.

You wanted to ask him, if it was okay he was still on your mind. Was it wrong? Would he be chill with him visiting your dreams?

Because that had been the hardest part of it all. At some point you had both decided you needed to move on… Because both of you at the beginning were trying to get back together and after a long conversation that almost led to one kiss, you both decided it wasn’t appropriate. So pretending you didn’t love each other was the way you’d keep him, for whatever it was worth.

Tom had said it once, hadn’t he? How everytime you both stated your feelings… it hurt. So now that you weren’t stating them, you were supposed to not hurt. Why did it, then?

“You look—stunning,” he eyed you up and down, and licked his lips, “I—I’m sorry I didn’t-uh-call this morning-I was—“

“You look pretty, too,” you interrupted. Knowing that the missed call would be a subject for James’ interest. The short story was—you had probably had a few more drinks than you should’ve with him at the hotel bar with Clark and James and Tom had walked you to your room, only walking, not even a kiss on the cheek as much as you had wanted it, but he had promised to call in the morning after you had claimed he had been ignoring you. He hadn’t called.

And was aware of it, which meant he hadn’t forgotten. It meant he had avoided you, again.

It had seemed that from one morning to another Tom had decided that the word friends meant strangers.

Maybe he wouldn’t pay a visit to your dreams.

He reached for your hair, “I like the flowers—”

“Can you both leave your ‘in love but not together’ bullshit for later?” James snapped you both out of the trance. “The wedding is in two hours and the fucking groom is no where in sight.”

Both Tom and you turned to him, travelling back to reality. “Well it’s not my fault! Who—sent him? Why didn’t you guys offer to go for the stupid tie?” You snapped back at your brother.

Tom looked away.

Of course. You watched him. “Tom? How do you plead?”

“Guilty,” he admitted.

You took a deep breath. This was definitely not the scenario you wanted to find yourself in. Had… Harry escaped? It was… not likely to escape but then again, you’d learned not to expect anything.

It was reason enough to worry.

“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Tom said.

James sighed. “He took my car and—“

“You gave him your car to escape—!” You snapped. “Your car always stops working!”

“No,to go for his tie, not to escape,” Tom snapped his fingers with a smile defending your brother. “We-”

“Thomas oh my god, I am not even- All of you, you all thought it was a good idea?” You were furious now. Whose stupid idea was it to-Of course it had been Tom’s. You were going to jump to conclusions. “To send the groom when any of you could have gone-?”

You didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

You really didn’t, however it was ineluctable. Not because Harry didn’t love Emma, but because Harry was… scared. You didn’t blame him. True love comes barely once in a thousand lifetimes and when we finally get to it, it might be too much for us to handle. However after your conversations with Harry this cataclystic outcome had not been foreseen.

“My dad is around the hotel trying to find him,” Tom quickly answered.

You took a deep breath. You perfectly knew Harry.

Harry and you were close as you had once been, in a way, Harry and you were well apprised of the other. Harry was reasonable enough not to leave his wedding.

“He offered to go,” James explained.

Harry wouldn’t have offered that unless he needed to go away. And you only needed one confirmation, there was no way Harry would’ve forgotten his tie. Harry would’ve never forgotten it, unless it had been self sabotaged.

You were conveyed to the drawers, opened each one carefully, fearing you’d find it, and your gut had been right. there it was. The tie in all of its splendor. “And you let him go?” You asked, taking the tie and swinging it to them. “To search for this tie?”

“Yes,” James closed his eyes. “Fuck. We should’ve known.”

Your eyes crossed with Tom’s and then you then realized it, Tom seemed calm. Tom wasn’t freaking out. Not externally. You weren’t sure if he really wasn’t or if it was the usual wall you both build around the other. Incomprehensible it seemed now. Always keeping it cool, So many things you’ve lived and you had let them go oh so easily?

But you were flawed. You had been. But not now, what was stopping you both? Wasn’t he still the one holding your broken heart in the palm of his hand? Had he not borrowed it?

You were still trying to hold his.

But your mind shouldn’t be worried about your relationship with Tom when the groom was nowhere to be found. When he had lied that he lost his tie and it was right in that drawer.

Yet, you somehow knew there was something… Something there.

“He was supposed to go home then?” You questioned Tom.

Tom was getting anxious by the second. “Yes, so we can go look for him.”

“The two of you?” James interrupted.

“Yes the two of us, we could split and look for him but...” Tom said. “Someone has to stay here.”

James was slightly annoyed, you could tell. But James was often annoyed at you and Tom. James had been the most disappointed about the resulting relationship. Honestly, everybody was disappointed. Had you been cowards for giving up?

So much drama and for what?

“Of course you’d think splitting up is a good idea,” James snapped with poison. James was annoyed because he always pointed it out to you, how much you’d fought to have him and how easily you’d walked out.

Walking out had not been easy. Walking out had to be the most painful decision you’ve ever made. And you remembered that night you had, the city was asleep, the night was quiet, and you were the only one standing on that street, under that streetlight. Alone. He hadn’t gone to you. You’d looked back to his window, expecting him to be there, and then the door had remained closed.

You cleared your throat. “I might know where Harry is,” you lied. You were at a loss of your mind at the moment. Maybe it was shock. Not maybe, it certainly was shock. The sole thought of Harry not appearing at his own wedding had not ever crossed your mind. You’d thought Emma would’ve. Would’ve been in character, but how stupid do you have to be to run from your wedding on your wedding day?

Tom directed a glance. “I think I might know where he is, too.”

Did he? Or was he only trying to prove a point?

Though the friendship was afloat, some habits could never wear out. Especially when it came to challenging the other. After the breakup it had become a sort of competition of who was dealing better with it.

Neither of you were coping well, but you wouldn’t admit it.

How disappointing, isn’t it? A whole story to end just in a few words. A whole journey to be plucked off your hands. So quickly, so easily.

How ironic it seemed that after such a long time, it was this breaking up bullshit.

James watched between the both of you. “Do you really?”

“Yes,” Tom and you answered and panicked at the other’s statement.

“Well, I’ll race you there,” you challenged.

Tom squinted, “I don’t have my car, dad gave me a ride.”

“Well, then, you should start running so I don’t beat you there,” you grinned and then walked off the room, decidingly. Only thing left was knowing where exactly Harry had run to.

“This isn’t a fucking game, y/n!” James reminded you. “We need to find Harry.”

“I know, Jamesy!”

Tom had rushed after you, “You have no idea where he is, do you?” He mumbled.

“Not a clue,” you admitted. “You?”

He laughed, “Not a fucking clue, either.”

You both got into the elevator. He dug his hands into his pockets.

“Do you think he escaped?” Tom questioned.

“It’s possible,” you admitted. You sighed, as you pressed the button to the upper floor.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked.

“I need my keys,” You said.

Tom’s eyes widened. “And are you telling Emma?” He was panicking.

“Of course!” You gave him the widest beam. “She’ll be delighted!”

“What?”

You jokingly slapped his head. “Of course not, idiot! How the fuck am I supposed to tell her? What would I even tell her? Hey! We can’t find Harry! He might have run off! No!”

“Right. Then what’s the alibi?” Tom asked. “Just showing up and leaving?”

You sighed, “You, you will be my alibi.”

Tom blinked but followed after you when the elevator door finally left you at your floor, you rushed to the room, but stopped in front of it, buttoning Tom up. He watched you with confusion.

“I thought I was your alibi,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “Not that kind of alibi, dipshit.“

Helaughed, rolling his eyes and avoiding your gaze. “Yeah, it’s been a while since that could be the alibi.”

You decided to ignore the statement, “Now, when I walk in, if you hear Emma question me—just call me and try rushing me.”

“Alright, but I think we need a solid alibi, y/n,” Tom pushed.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll take care of that,” you confirmed and opened the door where you were welcomed by Timmy, who was about to go out.

“Oh, hey,” Tim greeted and then eyed Tom. “Thomas.”

“Timothée,” Tom nodded his head.

Even when they both presumed to be friends, you knew that Tim and Tom would always have some sort of… disagreement.

“Uh, I was about to… go see Lily,” Tim explained, turning back to you. “Mind staying with Emma-? Her mother is on one last minute arrangements, it might rain so they’re trying to figure out what to do-So if you could—“

“Actually,” you cleared your throat. “An emergency came up, so I need you to stay here, maybe tell Lily to come here?”

Tim frowned. “What emergency?”

“We’re taking care of it,” Tom explained as you rushed in looking for your purse. “We’ll be quick,” he added. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Y/N, babe, you’re back!” Emma commented.

You squinted your eyes closed, “And I’m leaving—sorry, I need to uh—It will be quick I promise there’s an issue with—there’s an emergency—“

Emma was nervous, “y/n? Everything okay? Did something happen to the flowers?”

You couldn’t lie to her, but you could omit the truth. “No, everything okay with the flowers—I promise I’ll be here quickly, I’m just going to—“

“Y/N, darling?” You heard Tom outside. “We need to go, now.”

Emma heard and then she was no longer going to question you. Not right now, at least. “Ah,” Emma said, knowingly as she rolled her eyes. “I see, Tom— an emergency with Tom.”

“I promise it’s not like that,” you assured her. “But everything is okay and— I’ll be here in time.”

“I am freaking out, do you see the sky? It’s grey! Fucking grey! I need to stop the rain!” Emma yelled. “What if it’s a bloody sign? Fuck, I need to talk to Harry, I need him-”

You freaked out by then. “No, Emma, calm down, it’ll be okay, we will figure something out!”

“Y/N! Please!” Tom called in again.

Emma watched you, “I swear to god, y/n, if your emergency is fucking that man I will murder you.” “Trust me, it’s not.”

Emma glared, “Y/N, I’ll only say it one more time. If you’re leaving my wedding to have sex with that hunk, I will kill you.”

You shook your head. “I’m… Trying to figure out what to do with the rain, okay? Leave this ro me! I’ll see you in a bit, Emma!” You ran back out.

You saw Tom’s mother walking down the hallway, she offered you a concerned look.

Tom seemed calm enough for Tim, however, who was watching him with curiosity. You were thankful that they avoided conversing with each other, especially because Tom would probably screw up the alibi. One that you didn’t have. But probably Tim had bought it, even if he had yet to hear what the alibi was. However, you knew that Tom’s presence was a solid alibi for rather than anything else.

Tom had been an alibi for your nerves. You knew that Tim wouldn’t question why you were nervous because he knew you were always nervous when Tom was around. You certainly looked flustered and having Tom there would definitely explain why you were jittery.

Tim raised his brows at you, and you only took Tom’s hand in an attempt to drag him back to the elevator. Tim was explicitly confused.

“Ah, Nikki! I’m so glad you’re here, Emma is finishing up, would you mind helping her?” Your voice was coming out slightly coarse.

The woman gulped, “are Tom and you taking care of the...rain issue?” She questioned.

“Yes, ma’,” Tom quickly nodded, “we will… find the rain.”

Some things never change, Tom was still an idiot. And for being an actor how terrible was he at lying.

“Find?” Tim questioned.

“Nothing to worry about, Tim darling,” Nikki stepped into the room, trying to push Timothee back inside, “they are taking care of it and they should go look at it, right now, chop chop!”

“See you in a bit, Tim!” You said as you ran to the elevator as Nikki closed the door, you finally were able to let go of Tom’s hand.

He cleared his throat as he pressed the button, “So what was the alibi?” Tom second glanced at you. “Why would we take care of the rain?”

“Because it got lost,” you shrugged. “Why else would we find it.”

He closed his eyes as you both walked into the elevator. “I’m an idiot.”

“Biggest one.”

He chuckled, “I—uh, heard Emma’s comment. About her thinking we were going to-”

You blushed, “Yeah.”

Big distance between both of you. Never ever close enough to accidentally brush against each other or hands coincidentally touching.

How different it was from the elevator in New York.

Tom cleared his throat. “Good to know where she stands in that subject.”

You shrugged, “I would also get mad if my best friend ditched me at my wedding to have sex with an idiot.”

He smirked rolling his eyes. “I believe the term she used was hunk.”

You ignored the comment.

“Why didn’t Timothee question us?” Tom asked.

You shrugged, “Haven’t you noticed that no one questions us?”

Tom furrowed his brows. “How so?”

“Whenever we are together, they never ask anything, they just let us be,” you admitted. Because everyone was waiting for you both to get back together or everyone expected something more from you. You never gave it to them.

He tilted his head slightly, agreeing with you. “I guess they think they’re going to make things awkward.”

No. People let you be because they wanted you to solve it.

“As if they could be,” you chuckled. “I think that’s the best part of us right now, people just don’t… meddle.”

Tom smiled, “I guess.”

You cleared your throat, “Now, where the fuck do you reckon Harry is?” You asked as you reached the lobby, turning back to what actually mattered.

“Honestly, I have no idea, nothing can come to my mind, it’s just… Not likely from Harry to run away,” Tom said. “Like—Me? Definitely. I would’ve—“

“Yes, you’d definitely run,” you nodded as you jingled the keys. Tom asked for the car at the valet.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tom questioned.

“You’d definitely escape from your own wedding,” you chuckled. “You’re so afraid of commitment. It’s the Gemini in you.”

He opened his mouth with pride, “excuse me? Me the one afraid of commitment? May I remind you of your past, my lady?”

You avoided his gaze. “You may not.”

“Said no to a proposal, poor Timothee,” Tom started with a smirk.

“Okay that’s—“You cleared your throat, chuckling slightly. “You shouldn’t—“

“Then—Then,you faked a relationship.”

You eyed him, “are we really going to touch that subject, again?”

“You were scared of commitment enough to fake one,” he joked.

You could joke about it now. Or he could. You’d never joke about it.

“Or I knew you wouldn’t commit so I had to fake I didn’t want it,” you smugly answered.

He faked annoyance. “Well, you ran to another country, yes, just after confessing your lovely feelings through a letter—“

“That’s…different.”

“Then you didn’t give me an answer—you didn’t know if you wanted to date me,” he recalled.

You scoffed, “Thomas, may I remind you why I didn’t want to date you?”

“Then you called it quits after seeing your brother getting married and you were scared we were heading there too,” Tom said.

You gulped, “Ah, yes that last one wasn’t me—“ you reminded him. “Not entirely.”

Tom licked his lips. “Maybe we are both afraid of commitment.”

“No,” you nudged him. “I wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t either.”

There was a sudden silence. You’d barely talked about it before. As if the relationship had suddenly disappeared.

You hadn’t talked about the breakup once in months.

“I would say we are at a crossroads but,” he shrugged. “I do not believe that commitment was the reason for—“

“Nope,” you gave in. “It was not.”

Because it wasn’t, maybe it was the fact you were both too committed to a relationship without form.

“However—you did—“Tom cleared his throat. “I mean—we were headed in some sort of direction.”

“Thomas, I don’t think now is the time to have the conversation we haven’t had.”

“So we should keep pushing it, then? Pretending we are both fine with this agreement? Lately we don’t seem fine with it.”

You knew he was right. Neither of you were entirely happy with this whole new friendship thing. “I—maybe we can talk about it when we find Harry!”

Tom pursed his lips, “so you do want to talk about it?”

You took a deep breath, “Thomas, we can push aside that conversation but we cannot push aside the fact your brother is nowhere to be found on his wedding day.”

“Fine.”

“Besides I think if we’ve pushed it long enough—“

He laughed. “We are—particularly calm about that subject.”

“I don’t think we are,” you admitted. “We just like to pretend when we are calm around each other.”

Tom clicked his tongue, “Maybe. But I’m—We haven’t talked about that in a while.”

“And it’s not the moment right now, it’s your brother’s wedding, and he is nowhere to be found,” you repeated.

Tom’s smile faded and was overstrung again. The car was there.

You let him drive, he usually drove your car. Another habit that hadn’t worn out.

Now things weren’t calm, as if the sudden rush had become the both of you. You finally got it, the anxiety that should’ve come from hearing it. The anger and despair that you were supposed to feel from Harry running away.

He looked down, “what’s that?” He pointed at the cup on the cup holder.

“Coffee, from yesterday,” you explained. “Didn’t finish it.”

“You think I could die from that?” He asked.

You looked at him. “I—don’t know but—You're not thinking of—“

“Drinking it?” Tom smirked. “Yeah, I’m just—-thirsty.”

“Please don’t.”

He took the cup, “I won’t die.”

“I guess not but it’s been sitting here one day!” You tried taking it off. He gripped it and shook his head.

“I won’t die!” He said before taking a sip and scrunching his nose. “This is fucking disgusting.”

“Why are you bloody drinking it?” You laughed.

He laughed, “I—I don’t know, but no it’s not that bad.”

“Thomas what the fuck,” you couldn’t stop laughing. “If you die then I’ll have to take care of your dead body and finding Harry, and my priority is finding Harry so I’d have to pull a Weekend at Bernie’s”

Tom giggled and stuck his tongue out, acting so terribly as if he was actually dying.

“You know,” you watched him with fake repulsion. “You deserve an Oscar for that one performance.”

“Right?” He grinned. “I’ll thank you when I receive it.”

You chuckled, “I think we should focus on Harry instead, yes?”

You both discussed places where he would go, that park? Unlikely. That Pub? He wasn’t there. Home?

Where in the world would he go?

“What if he—?” You were getting tired. “What if he didn’t run away?”

Tom looked over, he was rubbing his face, angry you hadn’t found him at the third pub. “That’s the thing, I don’t think he did.”

“It makes no sense, does it?” You questioned.

“No, he—he loves her,” Tom licked his lips. “It’s cause—“ he clutched to the wheel. “I don’t think Harry would—“

“No, I don’t think so—I just—“

It started to rain, because of course it bloody had to. Seemed that the ambiance always had the urge to level up to the level of drama you were always living.

“Jesus Christ, can we ever get into a dramatic moment without it raining?” Tom questioned, angrily.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a laugh. “I—It was on the news forecast, I am sorry to inform you, but we’ve got nothing to do with the weather.”

Tom laughed, “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Alright, if he’s not at home then he’s—“You laughed, “Where the fuck is Harry?” You yelled, defeated.

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “I—hate Harry.”

You agreed. “Wait—wait, where’s your dad driving around?”

“Dunno, but he would’ve called,” Tom admitted. “Bloody hell, I hate Harry—I—can’t believe he did this.” You stayed quiet. If he had. What had led him to it? The day before he had been alright. Of course, he seemed nervous but he was excited, dreamy. In love.

“What do you know?” He questioned.

You frowned, getting your gaze back to him. “What?”

“You have your—thinking face on,” Tom pointed out. “See? Brow furrowed and hand on hair and everything,” he said. “You feel...guilty?”

“What?” You chuckled nervously. “No!”

“I know you guys spoke yesterday,” he recalled.

“Well yes, I wished him luck, but nothing—He gave me no clue of that, no clues of running away!” you admitted. “He was scared but he—I mean I thought it was usual wedding jitters but—he didn’t—I just—Calmed him. I mean he talked to you before, you probably were the one to scare him!”

“I—what?” Tom was taken aback. “I—I didn’t—“

“He talked to you before me!”

“yes, we talked but I gave him brotherly—marriage advice.”

You scoffed. “You? You gave him marriage advice?”

Tom chuckled nervously, “I—no, but—love advice.”

“We are the last people on earth that should give advice on that,” you stated.

He sighed, “I know but—“

“What did you say to him? Maybe you scared him and that’s why he ran away!” You stated, poking him.

He frowned, “Did not!”

“What did you even say to him?” You pushed. “I just know.”

He rolled his eyes, and mocked, “you just know?”

You playfully slapped his arm. “Yes, idiot! I know, you give the worst advice on love, you’re so dramatic.”

“I am dramatic?” He laughed.

“Yes,” you interrupted before he could even defend himself, “and—and, and I am too. We are—Oh god, are we to blame for Harry running away?”

Tom seemed to realize it at the same time. “I mean—Considering what we both could’ve said—“

Neither of you couldn’t help but laugh, maybe with guilt.

“I’m scared,” Tom admitted. He sighed, holding one last laughter.“We’re fucked.”

You both stayed calmly, as the rain halted against the car.

“What did you talk about with him?” He questioned.

Of course the question held more than that. You knew what he was asking about actually.

Seemed that both of you knew you had basically laid it on Harry the day before. Or maybe not. But where else would Tom ever get his advice from?

You had told him not to give up, you’d told Harry that he had found it, whatever love is, he’d found it.

“How I was proud of him, how I wanted what he was getting,” you shrugged.

You had also joked about how you and him wouldn’t have worked out. But you’d also said you were sorry it hadn’t worked out with Tom either. How you knew that him and Emma were not headed there, that he had nothing to worry about.

How you regretted the script. Spilling out your heartbreak for the world to see. Spilling your love story that was barely one and how people had a lot to say about it.

How it was painful to hide your love. How you knew Tom hadn’t moved on either but probably was planning to.

You told Harry to keep his feelings for Emma, and only Emma. That he didn’t have to share it. You had told Harry to treasure every morning, and to find a flower to talk for him.

“You?”

“I apologized for ruining his engagement party,” Tom nodded, “the first one.”

You both gulped.

“But how I—“ Tom shifted in his seat. “How I thought that they had found the silver linings for it all. That after being apart they’d just come back stronger. And how—I was happy for him. How they overcame all obstacles. And how they were just meant to be.”

“Soulmates they are,” you said. “Which is why it makes no sense he is not there.”

“We need to find him,” he stated.

You nodded. “We are very calm, though, considering-”

“Yeah,” he gave in. “I—What about the park?”

“Oh? The park? Not a park, the park, of course, how didn’t I think of that,” you teased. “Oh yes, the park. As if there aren’t hundreds of parks. Yes the park.”

He snorted a laugh, “shut up! You know where I meant!”

“Well, drive, you pillock!” You chuckled. “Drive to—the park!”

He rolled his eyes and was about to start the car, yet again.

“Wait,” there was a part of you that thought you knew where he might be. But—to explain where it was would be difficult. “Let me drive.”

To try and find Harry. Which was technically the quest.

You had less time now. You were tired. But there was something that was making you believe you could find him. You hoped you were right.

Being behind the wheel with Tom as your copilot was weird. You always let him drive because you usually were in charge of the music.

“Well, given that I’m here, I’ll be for the first time in charge of the music in your car,”he said. He seemed to have the same thing in mind.

Which was completely stupid since you were looking for a lost groom, but well, Tom and you didn’t have much in common but you could always brag about the same stupidity and brain cell you shared.

He took the aux cord as you were driving, driving to that location that wasn’t far enough. A place you knew that gave Harry peace. The park.

But of course your own peace was disturbed as ‘I think we're alone now’ played.

You hadn’t listened to that song in a long while, since you’d danced to it on his living room, most of the lights out, your screen light and his own eyes being the only light you needed. When the things were good.

You had, purposefully, erased most songs that ever reminded you of him.

“You seriously have that song?” You snorted as the memories flooded back in.

Tom avoided your glance and shrugged, “What? It’s on my playlist.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I notice that. That’s how music works.”

There was silence. Probably driven by the growing fear of not finding Harry, probably coming from the fear that Harry had actually escaped. And what would that mean?

Had Tom and you really scared him?

But you both drowned the fear while humming the song.

Or maybe the silence came from the very memories of the song.

“It’s on this specific playlist honestly,” Tom said after a few songs.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“It’s—the song,” he cleared up. “haven’t you noticed the songs playing are only songs you like? Or songs—”

Songs with background. You shrugged, “Well, we have similar taste.”

He laughed, “No, y/n, we truly don’t.”

You glanced at him, as he was looking out the window. “Huh, alright—maybe that is the reason we broke up.”

Tom clenched his jaw. “Don’t be an idiot.”

You rolled your eyes. “Never mind, that is.”

“No,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “what Imean—this is my—you playlist.”

You didn’t answer. Not right away.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Tom asked.

“What does that even mean?” You questioned.

He licked his lips. “I—well.”

“So you ignore me but you have a playlist—a me playlist?” You questioned.

Tom licked his lips, “I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you, it’s—been hard.”

It had been, for you, too. “It’s harder if we are apart,” you pointed out.

He gulped, “That is my point,” he coughed. “We are friends,” he said. “And lately, before I started ignoring you—We were—“

You had been acting a bit more than what friends are supposed to act like. And a wedding always brings romance in everything so it was hard.

You cleared your throat, “It makes it weirder if we both walk away from the other.”

Tom bit his lip, “is it, really?” He watched you carefully. “Because, y/n, I—I’ve been… jealous, how they solved it. And how we couldn’t, after we both tried it was so hard, how we kept falling back.”

You had been slightly jealous, too.

“And, really, I—look, I love my brother and Emma, it’s not them ,” he continued, he rolled his eyes. “For all I know, we are both bitter because before James’ wedding happened we were both talking about… marriage and all,” Tom continued. “And they basically stole what could have been our wedding.”

So you were going to have that conversation. A conversation you had avoided even before the breakup. How both of you were… in talks. How you were expecting it. How you’d jitter if he ever got on his knee to tie his shoe, how every time you’d be waiting for it.

“We didn’t even get engaged,” you pointed out, in an attempt to be cynical, probably.

He coughed, “We talked about it. Good thing—We didn’t get that far because, well.”

“I think we both thought marrying would salvage us from falling,” you stated. “Or we thought it was the next step.”

He shrugged, “Yeah, I think we did,” he admitted. “But I—Back then I really thought, I dunno. I was really about to ask.”

You took a deep breath, “I would’ve said yes,” you said easily, though it hurt to even think about it. Though, you had been prepared to say yes.

“It wouldn’t have been right,” he pointed out. “We would’ve broken up before even getting to plan it.”

He was right. So, so right, because where you were heading wasn’t a wedding, you were heading to an even more hurtful breakup.

The decision had been made acknowledging this. Knowing it would hurt less then. Avoiding a terrible breakup.

“We were on a thin line,” you agreed. “Anything would’ve broken us.”

“I knew we were going through a rough patch but—I think we never realized how rough it was.”

You sighed, “Maybe I fucked up when we came back here, when I decided not to move in.”

Tom took a deep breath, “No, it wasn’t that.”

What was it? What had it been?

“I don’t know where we went wrong,” you admitted. “I really don’t.”

He shook his head, confirming he didn’t either. When asked, neither of you had a reason. It just—happened. Things had been just so rough and hard. Nothing to hold on to.

Though it didn’t make sense, you loved him. And he loved you.

“I think we both expected things to get better by themselves.” Tom played with his fingers and watched the window, staring at the raindrops slipping through it. Sliding easily, without no one stopping them.

“And we grew tired of fighting,” you added, as you stopped at a red light.

“Can't even remember what we were fighting about,” he confessed.

You took a heavy breath in, as the music still played in the background. “About nothing, and about everything. We fought over serious stuff, like whether we wanted to be public or not. A little about Tim and Cherry. And over stupid stuff mostly, yeah mostly over stupid stuff. Like when we were supposed to wake up for certain events or what tie you’d wear for James’ wedding, we fought over you staying at my place too much. We also fought about FaceTime hours, and whether we had to ask if we were available for it or not.”

Tom dedicated his glance back to you, sad, upset and full of regret. “I remember the cereal one.”

You raised your brows, “Yeah, that one was a smashing doors one.”

“Over stupid cereal,” he sighed as he brushed his face. “We were so—“

“Toxic?” You finished his sentence.

He chuckled, “yeah, mostly at the end.”

“The beginning too, I mean,” you shook your head. “I—We had sex to just solve everything. Thomas, we had hatred sex.”

He chuckled. “Well.”

You shrugged, “And that’s how we solved the fights initially.”

“It wasn’t enough at the end,” he added.

“It never was, and that’s—Thats why, although we both said we would talk we just—I think that’s why it didn’t work, at the end we just—grew tired of each other, the spark was gone.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Maybe it was the script,” you pointed out. “Everything concerning it.”

Learning he had a lot to do with the fact it was made had made you doubt yourself, the one true accomplishment had come because he had come to the rescue. Although it had been nice it had really started the downfall of your trust.

“No,” he shrugged.

He didn’t want to talk about it. You had had enough talks about the script, over the fact you wrote it and then regretted it. Over filming and the input he had in the movie, how the character had more in depth than before.

Over the fact he had come to your rescue because it hadn’t been good enough. That one specially had been the start of your downfall. Seemed that when you learned about it, you had completely gone mental. Though, it had come from his heart, he didn’t understand why you were angry.

You had always asked him not to ever give a hand with your writing, if you wanted to succeed it would be for your own accomplishments.

Then again, there was also this side that loved he had helped.

Truth is, it hadn’t affected your relationship, but it had affected your own self trust. And if you can’t trust yourself, however will you trust someone else?

Enough talks had been had.

“No,” Tom started. “We were guilty. Both of us, as if we were making it up for past mistakes. I never stopped thinking about what Tim said, and I think that’s why I always tried making it up for all the other times I hurt you. And then you tried making it up for the script, or—Whatever, it was a relationship built up on guilt.”

“Yeah, I think,” you whispered almost not wanting to be heard, “we both had things to learn about ourselves, and forgive ourselves first… and the timing was wrong.”

Tom shrugged, “Isn't it always wrong with us?”

Time was your true enemy. Or maybe it was easier to blame time rather than yourselves. Time was nothing.

It had been you and your pride or your fear, or whatever you came up with now.

However, there was some truth in that statement. Maybe in the past few months it had been time.

When you had told James and Harry you might want to get back together, Tom was dating.

When you were dating, Harry had told you he was thinking about it.

But what about now? Neither of you were dating, you were single and every odd could push you both to be together. Yet…You were not.

How disappointing, you would always think. Such a long story to end up like this.

How disappointing, really.

“No,” he stated, once again. “It’s not time. The problem might be we are the most stupid people to walk on earth.”

“Sounds reasonable,” you said. You nudged him, “look at us now, though, able to talk.”

“I like where we are, yeah,” Tom commented. “I think we are in a good place, we trust each other, we are friends, good friends, we take care, we hang out. We talk. And actually talk.”

You were focusing on the road, mainly, but your heart wanted to say more things. “Yeah.”

“There’s something bothering you,” Tom stared, intrigued.

“I don’t like you avoiding me,” you stated. “I really can’t stand it.”

“I won’t avoid you, then.”

Then, it was quiet. And it didn’t matter, you enjoyed moments of silence, and it wasn’t awkward. Both of you had learned that sometimes you just don’t have to say a word.

But you had to, in fear he would feel you were angry at the previous conversation.“It’s not even all songs I like,” you pointed out.

“Hm?”

“The playlist,” you decided you didn’t want to continue that past conversation.

He coughed, “So we are changing the conversation, huh? Well, they are songs that remind me of you but hey!” He nudged you. “Which ones don’t you like?”

So easily changing subjects and getting out a smile.

“I—we can get back to that later,” you turned to him and let out a soft chuckle. “songs that remind you of me?” You smirked, poking his shoulder.

He blushed, rolling his eyes. “Yes,” he admitted defeatedly.

You laughed, “You’re such a nerd.”

“What the fuck! It’s supposed to be sweet!” He complained.

You shrugged. “Or creepy.”

“No, it’s not—“

“I’m kidding I’m—more flattered than spooked—“ you admitted. “So why are you playing it?” You poked his cheek this time and he pushed your hand away.

“Because I’ve noticed you always complain about the music so when I play this you don’t!” He explained, annoyed.

“Oh, so it’s merely to keep me quiet,” you snickered, nodding.

Tom was moving his jaw, “Yes, basically.”

You glanced again, mischievously. “Wasn’t it supposed to be sweet?”

“No.”

You reached for his hair. “Tommy.”

“Don’t Tommy me,” he chuckled. “You called me creepy.”

“Yes, I don’t know how to flirt so I bully you, I thought we had that covered,” you snapped without giving it a second thought. Then completely regretting it.

His smirk was wide now, as he laughed maniacally. “Oh so you’re flirting.”

Your turn to blush had come. “No.”

He grinned. “You are.”

But then it was a miracle, a way to avoid this subject completely because it was not the conversation to be having with the current situation. “Shut up.”

“No, you are trying to flirt with me, I won’t shut up!” He mocked you.

“Shut up!”

“No!”

“Thomas! I think that’s Harry!”

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seokjinsdisciple · 4 years

Text

Give ‘Em a Show

doyoung x reader (purely smut like idk what to say)

you’re a brat and doyoung puts you in your place

if you know me in real life and are seeing this.. no you dont 💖

warnings: established relationship, punishments, spanking, degradation, humiliation, brat taming, over the pants handjob for like 3 seconds, deep throating, subtle exhibitionism, petnames, dirty talk, cum control, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, uhh i think thats it but as always lmk if i forgot anything

word count: 3k

UNEDITED as usual

Your first mistake was placing your hand on Doyoung’s thighs. It was innocent at first, his members all sitting around the dining room table, laughing and having a good time. You really hadn’t meant anything by it, but the longer they talked the more fidgety you got. When your boredom was replaced with horniness, you knew you were going to be getting trouble.

You slid your palm up his leg slowly enough to keep his attention off of you for a while. At least long enough to palm over where you knew his dick rested in his sweats. You smiled as he gulped, his grip around his fork whitening his knuckles. You smirked at his warning glare, behave screaming from his eyes as his mouth stayed shut.

You didn’t move in the way he wanted you to however, your palm gently squeezing his half bulge. He still had a calm composure, not willing to let you win just yet.

“If you don't stop right now you won’t be able to sit tomorrow,” he whispered, breath tickling your ear as jolts of arousal shot through your body.

“I’m bored,” you whined, sliding your palm up and down as you pouted. You almost whimpered as he grabbed your wrist with one of his hands, forcefully standing up from the table. You tried not to laugh at the boys' shocked faces, or Jaehyun’s whistle at Doyoung’s very visible boner, but you couldn’t help the smile from spreading.

“Someone’s been busy under the table,” Johnny teased, laughing as Doyoung’s ears flushed bright red, betraying him.

“Please excuse us,” he said, dragging you from the table by your wrist.

“Lock the door heathens,” Yuta yelled, a chorus of laughter echoing down the hallway.

Doyoung listened to Yuta, twisting the lock on his bedroom door as soon as the two of you were inside.

“Strip.”

“Why should I listen to you?” you asked, eyes meeting his.

“This is a game you don’t want to play tonight, princess,” he warned, eyeing his bed, “I told you to strip.”

Instead of moving you stood, back almost pressed against the door. You smiled as anger flashed in his eyes, his body completely surrounding you as he pulled your jaw with his hand. His thumb moved up to your mouth, forcing it open. He pressed his thumb on your tongue, a whimper leaving your mouth as you felt yourself starting to drool.

“Look how dumb you look, drooling all over my hand,” he growled, “Now strip. I won’t ask again.”

He let go of your jaw, stepping back to give you room to move. You obeyed this time, knowing damn well if you kept going right now he would give you nothing tonight, no matter how much you begged. You hurried over to his bed, flinging your clothes off as quickly as you could. Your body tingled at his hum of approval at your obedience.

“How many spanks do you think you deserve for the stunt you pulled in there?” He asked, fingertips grazing your bare collar bones as he lifted your chin up. He always had to make sure you were looking at him, especially when you had been bad.

“None,” you said, smirking as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Wrong answer,” he said, patting your cheek gently, “Over my lap.”

He didn’t give you much of a choice this time, effortlessly moving your body over his fully clothed thighs until he had you settled exactly where he wanted you.

“Color?” he asked, palm gently rubbing your back.

“Green,” you whispered, biting your lip as a harsh smack landed on the plushest part of your ass.

“You really couldn’t wait for dinner to be over, huh slut?” he asked, landing three sharp spanks in a row.

“I told you I was bored,” you said, biting the inside of your cheek as he landed another spank.

“And I. Told. You. To. Wait,” he said, accenting each word with a matching slap on your ass. He pulled apart your legs, tsking at the mess that had begun to spread across your thighs, “Now look at you, all worked up from a few slaps and my words.”

You wriggled in his grasp as his fingers ghosted over your core. Biting your lip hard as he gave a quick, harsh slap to your lips.

“Awe look princess, you just got even wetter,” he laughed, “If you wanted me to spank you, you could’ve asked!”

“Shut up,” you spat back, begging your body not to betray you anymore.

“Now now,” he tutted, “Is that any way to talk to someone who gets to decide when you cum?”

“You don't get to tell me shit,” you said, whimpering as another smack sounded through the room.

“What a filthy little mouth you have,” he growled, “On your knees. You can’t talk shit with your mouth full of cock.”

He picked you up, practically dumping you on the floor as he pulled down his sweats. You eyed his cock hungrily, the furiously reddened tip just begging your tongue to lick. Doyoung threaded his fingers through your hair, dragging your mouth onto his cock. You kissed the tip, tongue circling the head of his cock as you watched his face. You took him into your mouth shallowly, popping off in less than a second.

“Who put you in charge, don’t act like more of a slut than you already have” He growled, tightening his grip in your hair as he forced himself back into your mouth. He was unforgiving now, pushing your head down until it was at the base of his cock.You relaxed your throat, his hands forcing you deeper onto him. You gagged for a moment, eyes closing at the weight of him on your tongue.

You let out a moan around him as he started fucking into your mouth, eyes flickering up to meet his. He looked absolutely stunning above you. Brows furrowed in pleasure as his eyes never left the sight of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth harshly. There was sweat glistening on his brow, and his bottom lip was pulled in between his teeth.

He pulled you off quickly, string of saliva connecting your mouth to his dick as you gasped for air.

“Doyoung please,” you whined, legs pressing together in order to get any friction.

“You’re gonna have to beg harder than that, princess, and is that any way to address me?” he said, caressing your cheek as you sputtered out an apology.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said, “Please I’ll do anything. Just please, sir touch me.”

“That's better, but not quite enough,” he smirked down at you, tutting as tears started to build in your eyes.

“I-, please, I’ll do anything,” you whined, the tears that were building threatening to spill down your cheeks, “I’ll make it up to you sir, make you feel so good, just please fuck me.”

“You look so pretty crying for me, princess,”He smiled, wiping the tears that had fallen on to your cheeks, “Do you think you deserve my cock?”

You nodded your head furiously, not even aware of the words that were spilling out of your mouth. Desperate to be fucked.

“Oh, sweet baby you’re babbling,” he said, pulling you up from your knees and pressing his lips onto yours, “You need my cock that badly? Havent even fucked you yet and you’re already dumb.”

You let out a satisfied moan when his lips connected with yours again, letting him guide you to the bed without breaking your kiss. Your tongues danced together as he positioned himself carefully on top of you. Your hands flew to his shirt, trying your hardest to get it off his body as quickly as you could.

“Who said you could do that, hm?”

“Please sir,” you whined, “Just wanna touch you.”

“I think you lost that privilege when you pulled that stunt at the table, don’t you think so kitten?”

You nodded up at him, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of not being able to touch him at all.

“Will you tie my hands sir? I don’t wanna misbehave,” you whispered, voice barely audible as he tweaked a nipple in between his fingers.

“Oh so now you want to behave? I don’t think I’ll tie you up this time, I expect you to control yourself now,” He said back, the gentle actions of his fingers and mouth not matching the harshness of his tone.

You had no choice but to whimper as his mouth attacked the sensitive spot between your neck and shoulder. Doyoung leaving marks anywhere he could reach while you desperately tried to keep your hands out of his hair.

“So needy, so desperate for me. Does princess want to touch me?”

“Yes sir. Yes sir, I wanna touch you so bad,” you mewled.

“Hmm, have you learned your lesson? Will you learn to keep your hands to yourself?”

“I won’t do it again, I swear,” you agreed, voice desperate, “I’m so sorry sir, learned my lesson.”

“Very well then, you can touch me but don’t think you’re off the hook yet.”

Your hands immediately flew to his shirt, face flushing as he let out a laugh at your desperation. He sat back, allowing you to pull the fabric over his head. When he started kissing the pathway from your neck to your core you finally slid your fingers into his hair.

His mouth ghosted over you, lightly kissing the side of your thighs, breathing over your clit, but never touching it. You had learned Doyoung liked making you squirm, and he knew exactly how to do it.

When his lips finally connected to your core, you muffled your moan. The back of your hand quieting your noises particularly well.

“So fucking sweet just like always princess,” Doyoung grinned at you, tongue flicking your clit in the way that always drove you mad, “No need to muffle those moans love, you were trying so hard to put on a show out there, why stop now?”

You let out one last muffled whimper before removing your hand from your mouth, Doyoung rewarding you with another series of licks on your bud. He didn’t tease you much longer, licking continuously as he slid one finger into you.

“You’re soaking love, you really are just a needy little thing aren’t you?” He asked, a devilishly handsome smile on his face as he slowly slid a finger in and out of your trembling heat.

You were a moaning mess, not worrying about the members that sat at the dining room table right down the hall.

“Wanna give them a proper show love? Or should I keep you right here where I know you’ll behave,” all the while teasing you with a single finger, “Show them what a slut you are for me.”

You simply whine at his words, desperately trying to get more fingers inside you, “Please, more, anything please just want more,” wiggling around and bucking your hips to try to get closer to him.

“More? You were so bad earlier I don’t know if you deserve it. Make me believe you deserve my cock.” he smirks “Really think I should collar you up and fuck you right there in front of them.”

“I’ll do anything,” you begged, “let you collar me and do anything you want, please sir, I just want your cock.”

“Anything at all?” he huffs finally giving you a second finger, pleased moan leaving your lips as you finally get more friction.

“Anything,” you repeated, gaze meeting him.

“And what do we think about being on display for others?” He asked, raising his brow at the way you clenched around him, “Oh you’d like that?”

You nodded at him, a loud moan escaping from your lips as he curled his fingers in you.

“Shall we see what they think about that too?” giving a particularly hard thrust of his fingers. You were being too loud, and you knew it. But the way he was pleasuring you made it impossible to be quiet.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking as a hard thrust ripped another moan from you.

“Please what princess? We’ve been over this you need to be specific.”

‘Please sir fuck me,” you gasped, “let them all hear it please, need you inside of me.”

“Oh princess you shouldn’t have said that,” he said, smirk on his lips as he pulled his fingers from your body, “You have no idea how badly you’re in for it.”

He wrapped one hand around himself, pressing his length into you in one thrust. Both of you unable to hold in your noises as he gave you a second to adjust to his size. He quickly threw your legs over his shoulders, pressing impossible deeper into you.

He made good on his threat, starting an unrelenting pace that had moans coming from your mouth. His hand wrapped around your neck, loosely holding it in order to keep your moans loud. The light threat of him choking you matched with the pace of his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge.

“You better not even think of cumming with out permission,” he leaned in and whispered.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, “If you don’t slow down, I’m going to cum.”

“Slow down? I thought you made it clear when you tried to touch me in front of the guys earlier that you wanted to get punished like this,” he growled, keeping his pace, “You won’t cum until I tell you to.”

Your mouth flew open as he let the hand around your throat drag down to your clit. Gently rubbing in circles as continued to pound into your heat. All you could do was moan, helplessly pinned between his body and the bed.

You were trying so hard not to cum, whole body shaking in effort as you willed yourself to be good. To listen to him and hold yourself back. You were crying, you knew you were, and that was enough for him to have mercy on you.

He took his hand off your clit, both hands cupping your face as he kissed you. It was messy, your tongues not really having any rhythm, the desperation to feel each other too great for either of you to care.

His hips were losing their rhythm, his grunts increasing in volume as he got closer and closer to the edge.

“You can cum princess,” he groaned, his cock sliding deliciously in your walls. A well timed thrust into your most sensitive spot had you obeying him. Your loudest moan yet following the snap of the coil in your tummy.

You felt his head drop to your chest, his grunts increasing as he fucked you through your high, biting and kissing at the skin on your collarbone. It only took a few mor thrusts before he was spilling in you. Cock twitching and hips jolting until every last drop was pumped into you. He pulled out gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead before flopping onto you.

“You ok?” he whispered, soft hands running through your hair.

“I should misbehave more often,” you smiled, laughing at his groan.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, letting out a laugh in disbelief, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you cum.”

He sat up, grabbing a towel from the floor and some lotion, carefully cleaning you up before flipping you over and gently rubbing your ass with the healing lotion. Muttering praises and i love yous as he massaged your tense limbs.

He dressed you carefully in one of his shirts, tossing a pair of sweats at you as he got changed himself.

“They’re gonna laugh at us,” you whined, pressing yourself tightly to his back as he swung the door open, waddling behind him.

“And whose fault is that, hm?” he asked, removing your hands from around his waist and intertwining your fingers.

He led you to the kitchen, feeding you a snack and forcing you to hydrate yourself before the two of you walked into the living room where the boys were sitting. Johnny noticed the two of you first, a teasing smile on his face as he cleared his throat.

“We saved you a seat on the couch,” he said, the boy's attention immediately flitting to the two of you, “Thought it’d hurt too much for you to sit on the floor.”

You whined as the boys laughed, burying your head into Doyoung’s side. He chuckled too, leading you to the couch.

“Took you guys long enough,” Hyuck grumbled, grabbing the remote and starting the movie, “I thought Mark was gonna cream his pants if you went on for any longer.”

“Hyuck,” Mark whined, blush covering his cheeks and ears as he hugged the pillow on his lap tighter. “I hate you all.”

“It’s ok, Mark,” you said, smiling softly at him.

“I’m surprised you still have a voice, Taeyong said, shaking his head at the two of you, “Now shut up, we have a Harry Potter marathon to get through.”

Everyone listened, shutting up and getting comfortable in their designated spots. No one was surprised at how quickly you fell asleep in Doyoung’s lap, his hands soothingly rubbing your back as you dozed off. Needless to say most of the boys asked if he was serious about them watching next time as soon as you had fallen asleep. Your mind entering dreamland completely unaware of the torture they were planning for you.

#doyoung x reader #doyoung smut #doyoung angst #doyoung fluff #doyoung #nct smut #nct angst #nct fluff #nct #dom!doyoung #brat tamer!doyoung

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