#speaking of gifts: i couldn't think of a more perfect song for the two of you than francesca | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fayes-fics · 6 months

Text

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk.

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment…

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil.

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa.

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy,

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity. You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully.

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache.

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being.

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more.

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects.

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is…

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him.

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts.

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….”

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped.

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it.

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!”

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear.

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #it had to be you fic

142 notes · View notes

coffeexafterxmidnight · 1 year

Text

The Token Human - Part 3

Hi y'all, me again back with part 3 of this... adventure, let's call it that. Sorry for not posting this yesterday but I had a random Depression Day and couldn't get much done. I seem to be doing better though so, let's hope I don't have another one of those days for a week or so.

Part 1 Part 2 CW: nothing too bad this time! Just Wally having no sense of personal space, and stalking. And memory alteration, too. [what does it say about this fic that this stuff is 'not too bad'?]

You couldn't help it, you were a little jealous…

From your spot under a friendly tree, you watched Eddie on his daily route. He looked up from the envelopes in his hand. With a smile, he waved at you. You waved back.

Eddie was a good guy, a friend of yours for sure. It wasn't his fault, not at all.

No, it was no one's fault, probably…

But as Eddie so stopped by Julie's house, three letters in hand, you had to look away. Something bitter chewed at you.

Why didn't you get any letters?

Seemed like everyone in the neighborhood got them. Family members and distant friends, pen pals from far away, even each other. But your mailbox remained only full of dust and longing.

Hard to think of who you'd want to get a letter from though. Your own family… you didn't want to think about that, for some reason that made you sad. Old friends… that made you sad, too.

You sighed and leaned against the tree, messing with the friendship bracelet Wally gave you. He made them with Barnaby and gave one to everyone. He even put yours on himself because you couldn't figure it out. The memory of his little nimble fingers brushing against your wrist still stuck out at you. Why did you always remember the weird stuff?

Wally wasn't around right now. You glance towards Home, in the center of town. Wally was busy inside his Home. Wally hadn't talked to you in a few days, really deep in painting. You wondered before if he was angry with you, but you hadn't done anything, not on that day or any other. Baking cookies with Poppy wasn't a bad thing. You'd even offered him some…

Wally was busy inside his Home. Everyone was having fun on their own.

I'm going to write a letter, you thought, and stood. That sounds like the absolute most.

Humming a cheery little song as you walked down the street to your house, you thought about who you'd send a letter to. Your parents? You didn't know their address. Some distant friend? You didn't know any of those either. Someone in town? You chuckle at the thought. Wouldn't that be funny, sending a letter to someone you saw every day.

In your house you found both paper and envelopes. You couldn't really remember when you got them - did someone bring them over for crafts? Were they part of Howdy's welcome to Home gift basket? Hard to say…

But you found paper and envelopes and stamps and a pen. You sat at your favorite desk, your only desk, and hovered the pen over the page.

Pause for a second. What were you going to say? What were you going to tell this person, someone you hadn't even decided on? Someone you might not even know. Someone… outside of Home…

It's a long shot, you thought. Your fingers clutched the pen until your hand shook. Such a long shot. If you screwed this up, you'd probably not get another chance.

It was a long shot but maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

You clutched at the memories with all your might. There had to be someone who remembered you, even if you didn't remember them. There had to be someone who could help you, out there.

The picture formed in your mind's eye, so clear, so perfect, the person you wanted to talk to more than anyone else…

Two arms locked around your body, pinning your arms to your sides. Cold sweat broke out on your forehead.

"You think too loud, neighbor," Wally said into your ear. "I could hear you from inside my Home."

He rested a fuzzy cheek on your shoulder and sighed.

"You were thinking of leaving again, weren't you?" He said.

You didn't speak, the words locked up in your throat.

"I don't like it when my friends leave. At least, I think I don't. It's never happened before. Isn't that silly? Home is such a nice place, nobody who comes here ever wants to leave…"

The grip on you tightened.

"Except for you."

The name slipped from your mouth.

"Wally…"

"I think," Wally said, pressing up against the back of the chair, "You don't really understand. Home is great! Home is safe, and fun, and happy. Don't you want to be happy?"

A hand, too large, too long, gripped your chin.

"We could be happy here forever, and ever, and ever. You and me and all our friends. Why don't you want that? Why don't you want to stay with me?"

A felt finger traced the line around your lips, and your stomach churned, you squirmed in discomfort.

"There's nowhere to go, anyway. Silly, silly."

He pressed his cheek against yours. Your eyes watered.

"I'm all there is now," Wally said, "I made sure of it."

Your eyes went wide.

"What - what did you-"

His hand covered your mouth. The felt was soft. His grip was too, too strong. You struggled. A memory washed over you, Wally singing as he dragged you down a dark hall, Home creaking, squeaking, as you struggled struggled struggled struggled

"Wake up!"

Your eyes snapped open. Julie let out a cheer and wrapped her arms around your disoriented self. You raised a hand to your head, blinking in the sunlight. You were under your favorite tree, Julie and Frank on either side of you, Julie hugging you still, Frank adjusting his tie the way he did when he was composing himself.

"What happened?" You looked around.

"You were having a nightmare!" Julie said. "You fell asleep under the tree again!"

"I did?" You looked at your two small friends. "That was silly of me."

"What were you dreaming about?" Frank asked.

You stopped, thought about it. What were you dreaming about, that got you all scared like you were…?

"... I don't remember," you lied. "The last thing I remember thinking about was writing a letter to someone…"

"That's a great idea!" Julie shouted. "We can all write letters to each other."

"Tomorrow," Frank interrupted. "Some of us like to get sleep when it's dark."

As the two continued to bicker, you looked up towards the street. There he stood, your best friend Wally. He smiled at you. You tried to smile back, even as your pulse tripped and quickened in your body.

Wally isn't your friend, where did you hear that from? Wally isn't your friend, but he'd never hurt you. Wally isn't your friend… but if he wasn't, then what was he?

He blinked at you, and you blinked back. What were you thinking about again?

After you left, walking Frank and Julie down the street, Wally threw himself down in the spot you'd been in before. It didn't smell like you. It didn't smell like much of anything but grass and dirt, and fresh leaves, but that was okay. He knew what you smelled like better than you did. And it was just the absolute most, just like you were.

He smiled. Thinking about you made him warm inside, happier than anyone ever had before. When he closed his eyes, he could see you so easily, around town, with your friends, in your bed, fast asleep and safe from the world. He liked those little moments best, when it was just you and him. When you shivered under the covers, he tucked you in. When your eyes flooded like little faucets, he wiped the water away. He sat next to you for hours and hours, never bored, not once. And when he had to go, he kissed your forehead, just like family did, before heading back Home again.

Oh, Wally wasn't stupid. He'd done a bad thing. But maybe, it was okay to do something bad, if it meant something good would come out of it?

And Wally - Wally loved you so much. So much more than anyone you knew back there. How to show it, he didn't know. How to make you feel it, he wasn't sure either. But there had to be a way, right? Someday you'd love him too, just as much as he loved you.

He had to keep telling himself that. If he didn't, he might do something scary. Something bad. And he couldn't eat your memories away for good, not like the others. He could eat and eat and eat, but yours always, always, came back.

Wally thought about the look on your face, how you trembled and your eyes got all wet and scared. He smiled, even though it was sad. Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he didn't want you to forget. It was wrong but… he liked it, when you were scared. Your fear tasted so, so good…

The sun slipped down the sky and you would crawl into bed after everyone else did. And when you did, he would be waiting.

#welcome home x reader #welcome home fanfic #welcome home wally #welcome home #welcome home arg #yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader

425 notes · View notes

homemade-ghosts · 9 months

Text

"I just thought maybe we could write this [song] together."

In season 1, Ricky can't/isn't ready to express how he feels about Nini in his own words, so he uses her's instead (by singing her song, "I Think I Kinda Ya Know", back to her during auditions). It's not very well-received, at least not by Nini (Gina's eyes light up when she hears Ricky sing for the first time). Partially because Nini has a new boyfriend and she doesn't appreciate Ricky effectively forcing his way back into her life by trying out for the musical...but mostly because he still can't say "I love you" to her, even if it's in a song (that he didn't even write). Later, Ricky wrote "Just for a Moment" for Nini, but never actually sang it to her (at least not in their reality...and when he did sing an excerpt of it to Big Red, Red immediately thought it was about Gina).

Then, in season 2, he writes Nini yet another song (two, actually, but "The Perfect Gift" is so generic that I consider it more of a cute holiday song by Josh than a song Ricky wrote for Nini) — and again, he doesn't actually get to sing it to her. They're so bad at communicating with one another that they spend the entirety of that day (Valentine's Day) trying to meet up, but never being able to. They can't even get the timing of a simple phone call right (a call that was Gina's idea, by the way) so Ricky has to sing "Even When" to Nini's voicemail (and vice versa).

Later on in season 2, Ricky & Nini were tasked (by Miss Jenn) with writing an original song for Beauty & The Beast together and they couldn't do it. Nini, instead, wrote the song on her own — a song that ended up being about how she feels, understandably, idolized and suffocated by her relationship with Ricky...which she told Kourtney not to tell Ricky about and then told Ricky, to his face, that the song wasn't about him.

Ricky writes Nini another song ("Let You Go") after they break up (or at least he finishes it post-breakup) that he claims was written for Nini, as a goodbye or some kind of "Hail Mary", but he never sings it to her...because it wasn't so much about her as it was about him grieving the childhood relationship they had and coming to terms with the fact that ending it was the right choice for both of them.

My point being, Ricky has always written songs for someone else (or claimed they were for someone else), but never with them (technically, there's that throw away line in s2 where Carlos mentions that Ricky wrote some of the lyrics in "In A Heartbeat", the song for Seb, but I'm talking romantic relationships here). He couldn't write a song with Nini because they were never on the same page, they couldn't communicate with or understand each other personally, so they couldn't collaborate musically (& even the songs he wrote for her rarely went the way he wanted them to).

Which is why it speaks volumes when Ricky says he wants to write a song with Gina. Finally, he's in a relationship with someone that's built on true friendship, mutual support and understanding (& vice versa for Gina, too), someone that he can communicate and collaborate with. With Nini, it was always about pushing his feelings onto her, but now he doesn't just want to sing a song to Gina about just his feelings (though he'll do that, too) he wants to listen to her, to know how she feels. He wants to work together to create something that they can share, that's not just his or just her's, but uniquely their's.

In season 2, when Nini flees after Ricky tries to talk to her about the song she wrote ("The Rose Song") she says something like, "It's just a song, Ricky." to which he responds, "A song can mean everything."

He was right, a song can mean everything.

#anyway catch me crying when they sing the song they wrote together #ricky x gina #rina #hsmtmts #ricky bowen #hsmtmts s4 #gina porter

213 notes · View notes

teddybeartoji · 3 months

Note

Ja te laisserai des mots by Patrick Watson

I’ll leave you words

Underneath your door

Underneath the singing moon

Near the place where your feet pass by

Hidden in the holes of wintertime

And when you’re alone for a moment

Kiss me

Whenever you want

I choose this because it reminds him of the sweet devotion Suguru holds for his love. I see him as an eternal romantic for his wife.

Together by The XX

"I know to be there

When and where, I'll be there

You know what's to be said

We said out loud, we never said" and

"You said you don't have to speak

I can hear you

I can't feel all the things you've ever felt before

I said it's been a long time

Since someone looked at me that way

It's like you knew me

And all the things I couldn't say

Together, to be"

In short words this explains a bit of their shared understanding for each other's soul and hearts. "It's like you knew me". Also represents the built trust. It's a soft song. And at the end "Together, to be" resonates sweetly. Two hearts finding each other in the immensity of this universe. And they become one.

Le Temps de l'Amour by Françoise Hardy

It's the season of love, the time for friends and adventure

As time comes and goes, we don't worry about anything despite our wounds

For the season of love is both long and short

It lasts forever, we remember it

Because their love lasts forever. This has an old song vibe, haha. I can see them dancing in a cold morning while the sun is shyly rising in the sky. It smells like home. Suguru has his hair tied up in a messy bun, hair strands falling on his face and shoulders. He is carefree, slow dancing with reader to this song. It's one of those 'let go's moments in the comfort of your partner. His eyes close here and there taking all the sensations in. His body moves taking up space in the room. A soft smile on his face. He is simply in his element. And you're in love.

And as for Suguru himself

Cloudberry (lost wishes) by The Cure I think it's the type of song he'd listen to when alone. It's an instrumental song.

I brought you softer, more romantic songs because I think it fits their love story. Hope you enjoy it. And yeah!!!!!! Feeding from the bourgeoisie!!! I personally love this idea because it's very much me. lmao. Fuck the rich and all of that. Suguru working with art is so sweet. To be able to do your hearts desire without the strings of working to survive type of thing. To see him enjoy himself truly and follow his passions. Oh. It's a gift. Because 'he deserves everything in the world'. You are so right. Thank you!! Hope you enjoy the songs <3. I'm in love with these boys.

HI MOMO MY SWEETHEART!!!!

i. fucking. love. these. songs. AND I REALLY MEAN THAT!!!!! they're so cute and they fit them sooo so well!!! thank you for sending me these!!!

ja te laisserai des mots -HE IS AN ETERNAL ROMANTIC 1000000% and this is so fitting for him. "kiss me; whenever you want."

together - "TOGETHER, TO BE." WHAT THE FUCK MOMO..... it's perfect. (i might've made a draft for them with this as the caption). it's literally perfect i have no other words for it. thank you for sharing this with me momo it really means a lot

le temps de l'amour -oh this one is so sweet!!!!! "a soft smile on his face. he is simply in his element. and you're in love." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA i'm crying. i really see it in my head too - the smile, the closed eyes, the hands clasped together, the marks of your love blooming on his neck mmmmmmm

cloudberry - YOU'RE SOOO RIGHT!!!! i can totally see him listening to this while watching the moon, watching the branches sway in the night breeze. mmmmm in his comfy little sweater too.

and i present you with!!! gymnopédie no. 1 by erik satie - i don't know i just really picture this playing in the background as they drink their coffee and eat their breakfast and talk about what their plans are. how sugu is gonna paint and read and how the reader is gonna have a spa day for themselves. how they're gonna go to the museum together later. what they're planning on wearing to the next rich asshole's party. they're holding hands as they're talking. reader's thumb swipes across the back of his hand and he leans down to press his lips the their cheek. it's home.

FUCKKK THE RICHHH. i'm glad u agree. and i'm sooooo in love with the museum idea the more i think of it...... i think it really suits him. and ari put the idea of him painting and putting his art on the walls too...... i think he'd be very shy about that at first but then you convince him to do it. that the world needs to his art. to see what he makes with his hands. with his heart.

THANK YOU AGAIN MOMO<3333 i truly am so so happy you're apart of the little vampire universe with me!!! please if u ever have any more thoughts my inbox is open and i have massive fucking ears!!!!!

#i love my vamps so muchhh #wowwww #it feels so easy to talk about them too #like i don't even have to think about it #it just writes itself #momo <3 #friends!!#mickey can't stop thinking

4 notes · View notes

kimbap-r0ll · 1 year

Text

Jamil x reader: Happy Birthday!

It happens to be my birthday today (woohoo!) and I wanted to write a drabble for one of my favorite twst characters. I hope you enjoy!

Jamil's seen birthday a lot celebrations: big cakes, lots of people, dancing, gifts. He's never really thought about holding one himself, or at least because he really wanted to. Kalim's birthday parties were more like a duty than a desire to the vice dorm leader, and while he had nothing wrong with Kalim he didn't really like the dorm leader's extravagance. Jamil wanted to have a good time, but maybe one that was more mellow. Speaking of which, he had to plan out a birthday event for someone special: you.

The two of you had been dating for a while, both of you first liking each other after finding similar hobbies in basketball, dancing, etc. However, what he really liked about you was how you treated him as an individual rather than an extension of Kalim. Jamil wanted to give you something special for your birthday, but he wasn't sure what he thought would suffice.

Kalim recommended throwing a really big party, like a really big one. Maybe the two of you could rent a private island his family owns! No, that was too much for someone like Jamil, though the idea sounded luxurious. When asking his basketball friends, Floyd said finding something rare to give you would be cool while Ace said just inviting a few friends should be good enough (the gift can be whatever, at least in Ace's words).

Jamil liked how he got a lot of suggestions, but he was upset that none of it really fit with what he envisioned would become a perfect birthday. Because of this, he had to take matters into his own hands.

"Hey, Najma?" Jamil was calling his sister. Sure, sisters might not know everything when it comes to relationships, but Najma was much more social than Jamil was (at least in his opinion).

"Yeah, what's up? You usually don't call me unless you need something," Najma replied, she sounded like she was outside in the souq.

"What kind of birthday party would you throw?"

"Huh? What a random question," Najma thought for a few seconds before giving her answer. "I mean, you could just share food with whoever you like, spend like some time together and then open presents, watch a movie, stuff like that. You know, just being with people and vibing."

"Ah, I see. Got it, thanks," Jamil nodded and before Najma could ask more, he called off. The next thing to figure out was what kinds of foods to bring. You did like the curry he made once, so maybe he could start off with that.

When your birthday rolled around, Jamil invited you over to his place. What awaited you there was a nice seating area at the center of his room, a nice dinner, and a little box on his desk.

"Wait, is this for something special?" you asked, and Jamil looked at you with wide eyes.

"Y/n, it's literally your birthday."

"Oh, oh you're right I forgot completely! Shoot I should've baked something so we could share it!" you crossed your arms and thought about how you were so busy you forgot about your special day.

"It's fine, I got a cake for us anyways. I should be the one treating you out," Jamil responded.

Sitting down and trying the curry, you couldn't help but notice how rich the taste was. You knew Jamil was a cooking genius but this was on another level.

"How do you cook so well, you need to teach me!" you exclaimed. Jamil just shook his head and said he wasn't that good or talented. Dang it if only he had a bit more confidence than just saying that.

You two spent most of the night talking and enjoying the food. He sang you a quick happy birthday song (you two both think it's miserable to put anyone through the song anyways haha) and then it came to opening your present. Jamil walked over to his desk and picked up the box, handing it to you and saying "open it."

When you did, what you found inside was a hairpiece, shaped similarly to some of the ones that he has. It was probably one that you pointed out during a trip to his hometown.

"Ah! I remember these! Wow, thank you so much!" you hugged him. Jamil awkwardly hugged you back, still not used to physical affection.

"Ah, no worries, I just thought it would look nice on you," he mumbled, trying to hide the fact that he was blushing.

"Aside from the gift though, thank you for the amazing night. I think this was the best way for me to spend my birthday," you added on. Jamil couldn't help but smile softly at that.

Sure, the birthday party wasn't anything like the ones he's seen before, but it was definitely the one that left the biggest impact on him.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst jamil #twst jamil viper #twst jamil x reader #twst scarabia #twst imagines #twst scenarios #birthday

39 notes · View notes

notesonartistry · 2 years

Text

Taylor Swift is coming off two quietly big years in music, as the singer dropped two surprise albums (folklore and evermore) in 2020 while in quarantine and then re-released two of her beloved albums (Fearless and Red) this past year. Swift is of course not stopping there, as she shared earlier this year she wrote a brand new song for Where The Crawdads Sing. Ahead of the movie’s release, we have the details about how “Carolina” came to be.

CinemaBlend and a select few journalists had the chance to visit Sony Pictures Entertainment to see a chunk of Where The Crawdads Sing and speak with the film’s director Olivia Newman. During the roundtable interview, the filmmaker shared how Taylor Swift’s upcoming song happened. In her words:

"She had read and loved the book so much that she felt compelled to write a song for it. It was before we had even shot the movie and when I heard the song, I couldn't believe it was totally so perfect. I think it is so beautiful and every time the movie ends and that song comes on, it captures the feeling you have at the end of the movie where you need to sit and digest what just happened. And the song is like the perfect transport for those feelings, it really sets the, exactly the right tone, but it was very serendipitous in that way because we hadn't shot the movie yet. For it to be such a perfect match was a gift. What a gift."

Taylor Swift is an avid reader and was apparently a huge fan of Delia Owens’ best-selling novel Where The Crawdads Sing, which was published in 2018 and has been on the The New Times Fiction Best Sellers list for a combined 150 non-consecutive weeks. In recent months, Owens’ thriller remains has returned to the list, with Swifties most definitely part of the book’s continued craze. Olivia Newman also said this:

"She has a huge following and I'm so excited that it's going to open doors for even more people to discover the book, because I think everybody should read the book. It's great."

Back in March, just ahead of the first Where The Crawdads Sing trailer dropping and including a clip of “Carolina,” Taylor Swift announced in her first Instagram post of 2022 of the song. She shared that she got “absolutely lost in it” when she read it years ago. She mentioned that she knew she wanted to be part of the project when she heard of the movie, citing her love for Fresh actress Daisy Edgar-Jones and producer Reese Witherspoon.

It’s wild that Taylor Swift actually wrote “Carolina” before the movie had even been shot. From what we’ve heard, the song definitely fits the tone of the film wonderfully, as Olivia Newman shared. Swift sounds like she really understood and was inspired by the material in Where The Crawdads Sing.

The singer has written original songs for many soundtracks over the years, including for another book-to-movie adaptation, 2012’s The Hunger Games. And after seeing Taylor Swift create her own stories (rather than biographical love and breakup tracks) in her recent music, it’s no wonder she’s jumping at writing songs for more movies.

#carolina #where the crawdads sing #she's just amazing

20 notes · View notes

amoosarte · 9 months

Text

𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒 𝜗𝜚 𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐊

━━━ in which meeting the love of your life in a field of colorful tulips sounds like a fairytale, but for Clém, it was the start of his love life.

Tulips meant perfection and deep love, but colored tulips meant so much more. Clem knew every single one of the meaning behind them, since tulips were his favorite type of flower. It made him believe that a person can be a color.

Like his friend James was the color orange, meaning friendship and appreciation. While his friend Marcus was the color blue, meaning one of a kind. He always lets them know by gifting them a flower right when they film a podcast.

Many think he speaks somewhat of a flower language, why else would he know the meaning of flowers? It was something he picked up and now has memorized it.

His mother found it adorable, telling him that his father had a hobby somewhat just like that, that was one of the many reasons why she fell in love with him. With a soft pinch on his cheek, she told him a lovely young lady will do the same.

Clém always wondered how his love life would turn out to be, making the boy excited when it would waltz inside his life.

One thing he loved doing with his mother is taking her to a large field of tulips, and picking them out just to put them in a vase that will sit on the dining table.

Going to go pick flowers is best doing it when the sun is going slowly down, it sets the mood and it better since the sun isn't as strong. "belle journée, mmh?" [Lovely day, mmh?] his mother took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma of the flowers.

"Est-ce qu'on devrait commencer, maman ?" [should we get started mama?] Clém smiled grabbing two baskets, walking side by side with his mother down to the fields.

As if he were a child, he stuck to his mother side, not wanting to leave her for a second. His mother would scold him for it, wanting her son to live a little, as if he wasn't already.

I mean driving fast cars gives you a shit ton of adrenaline, does it not? It doesn't matter, but you get it. "Devrions-nous prendre le dessert après ?" [should we get dessert after?] Clem said, picking a good amount of pink tulips, before realizing his mother was a good three rows away from him.

the thing is he was talking to a girl that looked his age, let's not leave the fact that she was drop dead gorgeous out. He felt his world become slow and everything around her became blurry. She had a bouquet of mint green tulips in her basket, as well of a pearly white smile.

A beautiful loose cream color sundress that made her brown curls pop out, Clém might had to slap himself to stop staring at her. He made his way to his mother in the most normal way possible, capturing the attention of the small girl.

"Éloïse, this is my son Clément." His mother smiled, putting her english accent to work. She had the same reaction as Clém, but had more meaning. She might had thought of her favorite song, seeing it described the moment perfectly.

Eloise cough slight "Eloise, nice to meet you." She snapped herself out of her little trance. "Clément, or Clém, either one is fine, nice to meet you as well, Eloise."

The exact moment, Eloise felt herself become giddy by the way she said her name. On the other hand, Clém liked the say it rolled out of his tongue. "You both have the same age! how wonderful!' His mother laughed lightly as it made both of them red.

"Mo-" Clém was cut off as his mother slightly pulled Eloise by her side and began to walk away. "Eloise you must join us for our tulip picking today!" His mother gave her a sweet smile, in which Eloise couldn't say no to.

A few more minutes had passed and the girl was getting tired. "Would you like me to carry your bag?" Clém offered, he noticed the girl was growing tired and he took action. "No, you don't have too." Eloise smiled at his kind words, but he insisted, so she gave in.

"Clém, let's go look at the shop." His mother had a habit of looking at the flower shop before they were meaning to leave soon. His mother freely looked at the other flowers, Clém had decided to do it.

"I like the flowers you picked out today." He smiled sweetly at her making her tilt her head a tad. "I will be honest, I picked the ones who caught my attention, but they are also for my mother." Eloise said smiling.

"Well the light green ones mean fresh, hopeful beginnings, and the purple ones mean elegance and admiration." Clém had rambled on, really catching her attention, but after he said that the blue had a meaning too he stopped. "Sorry if I was rambling." He got red quickly, making her giggle.

"No, No! I find it very intriguing!" Eloise looked at him in adoration, but having a quick idea. Pulling a purple tulip out of her basket and holding it up to him. "Then from me to you, after I pay." She laughed at her stupidity.

It made him fall harder, his stupid heart pounding harder than it was before. "can i get your number?" Clém blurted out, making Eloise a shade or red. "sure.." She had a big smile, bot of them really red actually.

Who would have thought that Clém found the love of his life in a field of tulips, his favorite type of flowers. His favorite flower made him find his favorite person for the rest of his life.

✉⋆ ˚｡ mentions ⋆୨୧˚ : @landitolover , @ch3rryknots , @moneygramhaas !

`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · MASTERLIST ?

#୧⋆｡🕯my stories!!#clément novalak #clem clem #clément novalak x reader #clément novalak x you #clément novalak fluff #clément novalak imagines #marcus armstrong #tulip meanings #fluff #formula one #formula 2 #racecars #motorsport #max verstappen #daniel riccardo #carlos sainz #charles leclerc

81 notes · View notes

rsmrymnt-tea · 2 years

Note

「 🐳 」 hello! my sincerest apologies for appearing so abruptly, but i am here now! i've come bearing a gift, [tap tap], it's a miniature playlist comprised of a mixture of both you and your mc, dolasach. ＿〆(。。) i apologize if it seems inaccurate!

1.) “bird song” by florence + the machine. (in my interpretation for this instance) a song about fear & guilt.

we're artists. we create images. perceptions.

we have the power to create who we are. you master your own personality, your own beliefs; you master every action, every reaction. you practice for years and years, and you achieve the level of mastery to be what you believe you are.

at times, that belief clashes with reality; the perception of yourself isn't a true reflection of who you are as a person. it may be due to being intimate with your suffering (not romanticizing it, but being familiar), magnifying your view of the worst traits of yourself, but nonetheless, a clash occurs.

then comes the ordeal of being known—to be known is to be loved, and yet, the thought of stripping yourself of the armor you've forged and perfected for years is frightfully sickening. terrifying.

there's a quote by brené brown that goes, “the irony is that when we're standing across from someone who is hidden or shielded by masks and armor, we feel frustrated and disconnected. that's the paradox here: vulnerability is the last thing i want you to see in me, but the first thing i look for in you”. in spite of yearning for a love that warms the cool skies like the sunrise, there is just so much fear that takes control of you.

and we create denial systems to fight back that fear, and then we become liars. in the end, we lie to ourselves and we believe it, too; it blinds us from seeing the truth. we put up barricades, we fight against freedom.

but a caged bird will sing not of cold iron, but of sunrise—a truer and more blue song. it will sing for nothing, sing for singing’s sake, for echoes, hopeless elsewhere, a free bird will sing of currents in warning or of praise of storm, and it will sing of acorns, of hard seed, and all the mundanities of love.

2.) “lost library” from omori. a softer song, composed of only instrumentals.

as i said, stripping yourself of those air-tight barriers and allowing yourself to become vulnerable is terrifying, but once you begin to regularly speak with someone who seems to be on the same emotional level of development as you, harbors similar thoughts, beliefs, pains—you begin to lean into each other, wishing to see more.

i had dola & satan specifically in mind for this one ^^ with how patient and careful satan is when it comes to securing a connection, i couldn't help but think of a scene where he begins to peacefully interact upon dola's first year of RAD.

3.) “the angry river” from true detective. a soft song with darker undertones.

i don't believe that the softness dola & satan share would leave, even if the two of them begin to grow their wrath together into something much more intimate and dangerous, if that makes any sense? rather than being vulnerable and witnessing the horrors of yourself on your own, you have someone else to share it with. someone who will accept all parts of you, even if they aren't pleasant to the eye.

4.) “a home for sunflowers” from omori. once again, a softer song comes into play.

i thought of this song after a grief-driven rage has occurred (or is occurring). a song of healing, a song that ensures that the wilting flowers always bloom with the new season, and that winter will always become spring and you’ll be reborn. dola's flower tattoos helped inspire this as well.

5.) “witchcraft” by graveyard club. a song that matches your heartbeat.

i suppose you could think of either solomon or satan for this one, but this song is here as a promise that the unwavering love and loyalty will remain, even through those not-so-bright days.

i hope this isn't too much... i saw an opportunity to share my love, so i had to take it and give it all i got!

HELLO HELLO HELLO NONNIE!! Omg I was so shocked when I saw this but like in a really good way, you're more than welcome to have appeared so suddenly <3

Especially because this seems to be like... Also a playlist for Dola?? And Nonnie I swear either I am incredibly predictable or your senses are just that good because I already have Bird Song in my playlist for Dola and these I would gladly add because they fill in gaps that I didn't know how to fill in!! NONNIE!! WTF!! Adding these to my playlist for Dola right now dhjkfdfhg oh my goodness

I'm also so so so blown away by your interpretation of Bird Song? I honestly added it to Dola's playlist because it felt like such a good breakdown song, especially with the intense delivery of the entire thing--with how gently it starts to how to builds up to something wilder, rawer, and desperate with Flo's vocals. That quote by Brene Brown!! Holy fucking shit Nonnie!!!! I had to put my phone down because dhdkjvbhkjvbhsfkbj 'vulnerability is the last thing I want you to see in my, but the first thing I look for in you" oooouuuouough Nonnie this is so Dola sdgsjdfghjdfhgjsdkdfhgdkf

Also cannot believe you thought of Dola and Satan specifically for some of these sgdjkfg I was rolling around in bed absolutely struck and touched that you thought of them with those songs like NONNIE I do not have the words. Except maybe that

I really want to write or make art inspired by the thoughts these have given me

I don't know what to do with myself after getting these omg??

This seriously isn't too much at all!! I'm so thankful for these and that you sent these in and that you gave little explanations??? Fucking losing at my mind at what you said for each of them dgdfkhgdfjg oh my goodness

#chat & colloquy #🐳 nonnie!!#iiiiiiiiiiiinsane #did not expect this at all when i reblogged the ask game ;w; ;w; ;w;

0 notes

corelliaxdreaming · 2 years

Text

Some random observations made upon seeing the movie for the second time:

~Baby Julieta looks exactly like baby Mirabel!

~When you really pay attention, it becomes more clear early on that Isabela isn't into marrying Mariano. Her reactions during the conversation at the breakfast table are all two-fold: she initially looks surprised/unhappy, then seems to catch herself and turn it around into a smile/fake enthusiasm. Also there's those two times when she makes a flower that punches him in the face. Yes, it's framed as a joke because she's surprised - or is it that she's surprised and acts on instinct to get someone away from her that's too close for comfort?

~I like Luisa's song in general, but I feel like how busy its presentation in the movie is sort of takes away from the lyrics and the emotions behind it.

~That little boy with the coffee crops up several times and always has said coffee except in the scene where everyone is looking for Mirabel after Casita is destroyed.

~Speaking of, you can hear some offscreen dialogue after the house falls where someone (I couldn't tell who) is telling Antonio not to cry. This is fine!!

~I didn't put together Antonio walking Mirabel to the door to put the knob in at the end. The parallel!!

~This movie isn't perfect, but I still adore it. The themes of generational trauma and healthy family relationships are good, but I think they could have been portrayed in a way that didn't put too much on the onus for starting the repairs on one innocent girl and didn't make it feel like her not being given a gift was a punishment for something she didn't do.

~I think the greatest strength of this movies is its characters, and it does great at characterizing all of them despite having limited screentime. There's a lot of room there to explore as a fandom. Here's hoping for an extension in the form of a D+ series, shorts, books, or whatever!!

#encanto #encanto spoilers

87 notes · View notes

hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

I Wanna Be Your Slave

A/N: Here’s the next requested fic from my Dirty Little Secret – Super Kinky List! In which you and Jax are locked in a cellar and he ties you to a whipping post and whips your ass lol. Master/slave roleplay but in this fic (unlike some of my other Kinkfest fics...) Jax is actually a good guy not an absolute asshole. Title is inspired by the Måneskin song at the below link! **Please note the warnings: This fic is all about the kinks, please do not read if this is not your thing!!**

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, light choking, degradation, dom!Jax, bondage, master/slave kink, spanking, whipping Request: This Dirty Little Secret request (anon)

Word Count: ~3.8k

Note: As explained in this post, this ‘Dirty Little Secret’ series consists of fics that I had originally written for another character/celebrity, which I’m repurposing for characters of Charlie! So if the characterization ever seems a little off please don’t judge me too harshly 🙂 ALSO note that this fic is just straight up shitty – I wrote most of it years ago without giving a fuck and am not bothering with improving the quality, I sort of used to rhyme back then but not consistently so it’s a shitshow really, I’m just shoving Jax into the setup for this fic with zero context literally, and I realize that the kinks in this fic are totally not mainstream and super filthy, so for once it’s really refreshing that I’m not gonna be sitting around hoping that people will shower my writing with praises or that this fic will explode in popularity 🙃

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut…

***************

You're trapped in a cellar.

With Jax Fucking Teller.

There's a whole fucking story behind how the two of you got here—some shit involving stolen guns, some rival gang that hates the Sons, your father being all politically significant and powerful enough that you're now being held as ransom—and honestly you should be crippled with fear. But this tall blonde bastard is so fucking handsome. You've been crushing on him for years. And nothing else matters right now when you're so fucking horny for him that you're damn near to tears.

He looks and smells goddamn divine. You know that's not the kind of thought that should be running through your mind. Not here, stricken with fear for your safety. It's crazy. But losing yourself in desire for Jax just feels... fucking unreal. So damn good. Better than it should. It's comforting, or something. Dangerously comforting. In his presence, you don't even care if it doesn't make sense.

Ever since you got stuck in this mess, you've been clinging to him in the darkness. Clutching his flannel-clad arms in a tight grasp which quickly turns into a desperate caress. Through the cloth you can feel the incredible bulge of his biceps and God it's just...

"It's okay, darlin'," he says. Shifts to give you the comfort you crave as you bury your face in his broad sculpted chest. Presence warming and calming. Even after what's happened this morning, you somehow feel safe in the arms of the crown prince of Charming. It's totally fucked to be honest. "Hey, I'll get us out of this. Promise."

The silent answer in your head is beyond shameless. But here with your cheek pressed against his firm pecs... shuddering in bliss as you breathe in his mouthwatering manly essence... flooding between your legs, 'cause he is pure fucking sex... you could honestly just live and die in this man's godlike presence. You bite your tongue to fight the shit you really want to say, keeping it back. Please don't, Jax... don't get us out of this—I want to stay...

Neither of you has any clue yet that you're bound to serve Jax Teller in this cellar as his filthy little slave today.

With one hand still gripping his strong upper arm you reach up with the other, wrapping it over his leather-bound shoulder, clasping at the back of his neck and clinging to his strong sturdy body like ivy to brick. You can feel a faint layer of sweat on his neck that you're instantly dying to lick.

Your senses are reeling. Here, with him as you give voice to a wild irrational fear, you can't deny that dread isn't the only thing you're feeling. You'll take life-threatening danger if it comes with the reward of you and Jax fucking. "... are they gonna sell us as sex slaves or something?"

The hottest sound you've ever heard bursts softly from his throat. It's low and quiet, caught between a breathy laugh and breathless groan. You bite down on your lip then to stifle your own slutty moan. His bright blue eyes meet yours and you can feel the heat burning beneath, and from the way his tongue traces along the edges of his teeth, you can tell the answer to your question is no.

That's not the answer you want, though. It's precious that Jax doesn't already know. Some part of him probably does but hell if it won't take a little more for him to let it show.

You're gonna give him more than just a little more.

With a bat of your lashes, your flirtiest dirtiest smile flashes; you drop to your knees before him like a whore.

"Oh f—" he mutter, too shocked to even utter the full curse, sapphire eyes wide in wonder, "what are..."

"Practice," you purr as you lick your lips, eager hands framing his hips. "If I'm gonna be a sex slave then I think I should practice performing... service..."

Jax sucks in a sharp hiss as you bury your face in the crotch of his jeans, massaging his dick through the denim with your doting mouth till he's harder than he's ever been.

"Practice makes... perfect, doesn't it?" you say as you savor the smell and the feel of his meat. Good enough to eat. "Though you already are, Jax. Every inch of you is perfect. That's a hard fucking fact."

Jax throws his head back, huge cock throbbing with a luscious twitch. "Son of a bitch..."

"Mmm, make me your bitch, Jax. Please. I wanna be your slave. Serve you in every way. It's what the slut inside me needs... and craves..." you shamelessly confess as your hands set to work on his fly to unleash the glory of Jax Teller. "Nothing else even matters today. We're here now all alone together, in this shady little cellar..."

When his cock springs free you could swear that this piece of meat is your entire life's purpose. All set to be worshiped and serviced, because his delicious existence demands and deserves it. He's so. Fucking. Perfect.

You gaze up at his gorgeous face as you melt in his presence, and finish your sentence. "... so let's make it fucking worth it."

***************

The first order you take from Jax Teller, as he finally falls into his role as your master right here in this cellar... is to get your filthy hands off of his dick. You are not to touch it till you've fucking earned it. Like a dog, like the bitch that you are, he tells you to just sit.

To stay down on your knees and to not move an inch, not even turn your head as he strides toward the far wall behind you, brutally keeping his beautiful self beyond your field of vision for a minute.

You bite your lip, listening to the footsteps and movements that he won't let you witness. Rustling noises. You hope that he's stripping off his stupid clothes. That when you see him next, he'll be towering over you gorgeously naked.

And God yes, he is, when he returns at last to stand before his bitch. You groan in sheer bliss as your awestruck eyes try to take in every last flawless inch of his smooth, glowing skin. There is just... too much perfection. You couldn't even process the divine glory of Jax in a whole damn lifetime, let alone one split second.

Hypnotized though you are by him, your gaze then shifts to notice what he's holding, and... holy shit. Apparently he hadn't gone to the far wall just to undress.

He had taken stock of the supplies and other items stored down in this shady cellar and he has returned bearing gifts: a coil of rope, long and thick, and a wicked-looking leather whip.

"Like what you see, huh?" he taunts, no doubt referring to both his new toys and his nude body, especially his dick. "Kinky little bitch. Now get up and strip."

"Yes, Master," you blurt out, rising to your feet, hastening to obey his order.

"Bad slave. You are not to speak until I say you can," Jax commands, taking a deliberate step toward you. With both rope and whip clutched in one fist, he reaches to cup your chin with his other hand. "Do you fucking understand?"

Fighting your burning urge to scream yes sir, somehow you keep your lips sealed and just nod your head.

Jax's blazing blue gaze devours your face as his fingers descend to frame your jawbone, then to close around your throat. "That's a good slut. Keep that dirty mouth shut. Or else you're gonna suffer some serious punishment."

Fuck—hearing him talk like this, while he strangles your neck in his dominant fist, is too much. You've become a trembling mess beneath his touch.

"Mmm, look at you shaking. Desperate piece of shit. I'm starting to think that maybe punishment…" he whispers in your ear as he tightens his grip around your neck, "...is what you fucking want."

Oh God, your inner voice grunts, struggling not to say it aloud. In the most painfully perfect way, the fact that he's choking you now actually makes it easier to stay silent.

His husky growl and twisted words are sending waves of pleasure through your body, hitting all the spots you never knew you had and soaking up your cunt.

"Yeah, you're begging for it. Already ignoring your master's orders. Disobedient bitch," he scoffs, shoving you up against a nearby wall, his every movement rough and quick. "Didn't I tell you to strip?"

Before you can even manage to nod at him, still just staring, Jax's hand drops from your neck down to the fabric of the fancy buttoned cardigan you're wearing. Your daddy is rich, so you typically dress like a spoiled little bitch.

"Need me to show you how to do it? You that fucking stupid?" he sneers, suddenly yanking it off you with just a few effortless jerks of his wrist. "Now take off the rest. And then go stand against that beam. Hands on the wood, head down, with your ass facing me."

Jax steps away, sharp blue glare dark and daunting as he watches his slave scurry to obey. In a matter of seconds, your clothes and shoes have been flung off, and you practically throw yourself against the wooden beam, grabbing the jagged surface desperately, wincing as the splinters graze your fingers. Even that sharp little sting feels good, because this is what Jax wanted.

You keep your head bent low, bowed submissively per your master's orders, breathing shallow as you feel his presence coming toward you from behind, steady and slow. A gasp slips past your throat when you feel his calloused hands upon your wrists, binding your hands to the beam with the thick, heavy rope. The knots securing you in place are strong and tight, expertly tied. This must not be his first time doing this, you realize, beyond turned on by his well-practiced dominance. By just what a masterful master he is.

"Mmm. You look so fucking pretty like this," he rasps, leaning over your body with his massive cock grinding into your ass, sliding against the crack so that you can feel the tip of it, swollen and wet, hovering over the small of your back. One of his hands tugs at your hair, arching your neck backward a bit as his lips attack the soft skin of your throat in a harsh, biting kiss. "Beautiful baby girl, all bound up naked and aching to be punished. You gonna take it? Good and hard, just like the slave you know you are? Gonna be a good little bitch?"

His hot mouth teases at the corner of your lips, knowing how badly you want to kiss him, to taste him, fucking torturing you with it. Though his firm grip on your hair is anchoring your head right where he pleases, you're sure that he can feel the way you struggle now to bob it up and down, to give him your wholehearted yes.

"Yeah, that's it. Ever done this before, you dirty whore? This sweet ass ever taken a beating?"

You're not quite sure how to answer that—certain guys from your past have given your ass a few smacks, here and there, when you asked... but you don't know if that kind of thing really counts as a beating. The dynamic with them was never nearly as brutal and degrading. And they had only ever used their hands; no toys or torture instruments.

"Can't even answer the question? Dumb little bitch," Jax snickers as his face moves away from your neck, standing to his full height behind you, then stepping back so that his dick is no longer brushing against your crack, leaving you feeling emptier than ever at his absence. "Not that it matters. 'Cause I'm sure you ain't ever been beaten like this."

Ohhh shit, you think, inhaling through your teeth with a loud hiss as you feel the first soft touch of leather on your skin, his wicked fucking whip. For now he is just devilishly teasing you with it, tracing lines down your back with the tip.

"This what you want, slut? Gonna need to hear you beg for it," he orders, his other hand still tangled in your hair, pulling your skull more sharply back. "Go on. Open that filthy fucking mouth and tell me what you want."

"Thank you, Master," you whimper, letting all your shameless words fall out. "I want you. God, I want you to beat me. Hurt me. Please. I want pain, if it will bring you pleasure, sir. I want my punishment."

"Mmmmn," Jax growls, clearly incredibly aroused, and you could seriously cum just from that sound. "Bet you do, bitch. Let's see just how bad you want it, huh? See how wet you've gotten. Needy little cunt."

You've already been dripping now, for more minutes than you can count. The next sound you hear is a soft thud, which you're guessing is the whip having been cast down to the ground. Jax needs his right hand free to start going to town on your pussy.

The words that have just come out of his mouth, coupled with the feeling of his fingers making contact with your slick mound, sliding over your clit, slipping into your slit and stirring you up, swirling your wet heat around, then plunging three digits in knuckles deep, pushing in and back out slowly first before he starts to fucking pound... this just brings all the walls inside you crashing down. Floodgates in you burst open on the instant as your arousal uncontrollably gushes out. It's killing you to stay silent through all of this, but you don't dare disobey his orders, don't dare make a sound.

"Holy fuuuck," Jax grunts as he pulls his hand off of your cunt. "So wet. Tight pussy squirting all over your master. Such a dirty fucking slut."

He reaches over you to shove his sloppy, sticky fingers in your mouth, your cheek pressing against the wooden beam, as you obediently suck them clean. You're not usually one to enjoy your own flavor that much, but fuck, it tastes better than ever now that you are being fed by him, the sex god of your dreams.

Then as soon as his fingers pull out, he leans in and angles your head toward him so that he can kiss your mouth, and holy—wow.

You know right away that you could never get enough of the feel of his full, luscious lips against yours, the taste of his talented tongue as it fucking invades and explores. He hums and groans into the kiss, sending resonant vibrations of his dominance down your throat and all over your mouth, and damn, you kind of really want to die right now.

But you don't. Of course, not yet. More than anything you're still desperate for your punishment.

"Fucking perfect little slave," Jax snarls as he pulls away, and you can hear him squatting down behind you to pick up his whip.

Before he does, while he's down there on his haunches, he takes the chance to manhandle your ass cheeks, groping firmly and then biting down on one of them, pausing to admire the mark that he made on your flesh with his ravenous teeth, then giving that spot a wet, open-mouthed kiss, and finally a sharp, stinging slap. Your knees buckle from how much you fucking liked that.

"Slut," he chuckles as he gives that cheek a few more smacks, each harder than the last. He makes sure to give the same sweet kinky treatment to the other cheek, biting and kissing then spanking both halves with his big, sturdy hands before he finally picks up his whip, one palm still groping your ass as he stands.

"Ready to feel this whip lashing your pretty little ass?" Jax dominantly asks. "Tell me, slave. How many do you want."

You're so blissed out right now that you barely have control over your lolling tongue. "Uh... uh—a lot."

"That's not a number, slut. Give me a number you can fucking count."

"Ughhhh..." you groan out as he trails the strip of leather wickedly against your ass, "...umm, a hundred?"

A soft laugh escapes his throat. "That's cute. You must be new to this, darlin'. I'm not about to beat you dead."

Some part of you right now kind of likes the sound of that. Which is maybe... sort of... bad? Jax is still talking, so for better or for worse, you don't have time to dwell on that.

"I can do a hundred. But only if each one is... weak... and soft..." he tells you, bending over your body to press his lips against your face again, kissing your cheek, tender and sweet. "Is that what you want? Or does this filthy bitch want it hard?"

His mouth has descended to bite down on your neck as he says it, causing you to cry out in bliss. "Fuck yes, please—hard!"

Jax huffs out another sexy little laugh. "That's what I fucking thought. I'm gonna give you ten to start," he offers, leaving wet kisses on the smooth skin that he'd bitten. "Ten nice and hard. That sound good, baby girl? And you just tell me if you want more. Or... if it's too much, if you ever want me to lighten up, or stop—"

"I won't," you blurt out. "God, Jax, I want... I need you to just fucking beat my ass off."

"Mmmn. Babe, you are fucking amazing, you know that?" he growls, fondly nuzzling your neck for a second before he pulls back, standing behind you, with his rock hard cock once again hovering over your crack. "But Jax ain't my name right now. Is it. What do you call me, slut."

You cringe at your own unforgivable error. "Master. I'm so sorry, sir."

"Yeah, you better be, bitch," he snarls, as the whip that has been gliding delicately over your body suddenly lifts away from your skin. "Fucking take it."

Holy—fucking—shit. The sharp, searing pain that you feel in that instant is so goddamn perfect. Electric, explosive, exquisite. Everything Jax is. Your life as you know it is finished; you live only to serve and to worship this god of a man who deals out such sweet punishment. You love it. You love him.

The rugged velvet sound of his voice in this moment just deepens your love for him, heightens your pleasure. "Count 'em for me, whore," he orders ruthlessly. "Want more?"

"One... Thank you, sir," you sigh, hazy from the incredible high. "Please, Master. More."

For a hell of a long time, Jax gives you everything you beg him for. And every second of the pleasurable pain is so damn dirty, so damn pure, completely perfect. But you both know that, given what a desperate slut and dedicated slave you are, you will literally never want him to stop. So Jax is the one who hits pause, when he decides he should.

You never wanted it to end, but this is what your master wants—so as much as it saddens you, still you just give in, and still it feels good.

"Damn, baby," he breathes, dropping the whip, gently kneading your ass as he leans down to leave a trail of kisses up your spine with his soft, sinful lips. "Guess I should've known better than to ask you for a number. Such a good little slave. But we're gonna stop here, okay?"

"Yes, Master," you whisper.

"You know why we're gonna stop?" he teases as his mouth reaches the back of your neck. "It's not just because I'm done with beating you. Nah, the real reason is that... there's something even better I've been dying to do."

Part of you already knows what it is. And all of you wants it. Needs it.

Jax tilts your head to claim your mouth in a kiss, as his huge dick aligns with your soaking wet slit. "Mmmn. That's it, bitch," he moans into your lips. "Gonna fucking fuck you."

Every damn thing about Jax Teller is literally magic. So, as his massive cock basically breaks your body in half, as his heavy balls slap up against your cunt with each ferocious thrust so hard and fast, as his dominant hands grope and grab all over your just beaten ass... every inch of you feels so damn blessed upon contact.

You can't imagine any better way to recover from your punishment. Not that you ever really want to recover from it—mostly you just want more and more of it—but no matter what you want, healing is what you need.

And Jax heals just as well as he hurts. Even better, in fact.

Once he's done fucking your pussy rough and dirty, shooting his divine cum deep inside you just the way you beg him to, he unties your ropes and then spends the next hour or so kissing and caressing and cuddling with you, massaging your ravaged ass cheeks with his hands and mouth, taking you to heaven when that sweet mouth eats you out, and even when he lets you worship his cock the way you've been dying to do, even when he grabs your head and fucks your face before he explodes down your throat, even then it still feels like healing. You both really needed that feeling.

He lifts you up to kiss you, deep and slow, on the lips before you are even done swallowing his cum. You let yourself drown in that beautiful face, hoping that Jax knows how damn good he tastes. How perfect he is in every way. That he is a fucking god, that everyone on earth should kneel before him as his slave.

When the kiss finally ends, as you both try to catch your breath for a few seconds, the cold hard fact of your predicament sets in again.

"We should probably put some clothes on, babe," he says, coming down from the high of his sex-heated haze. "Then I've gotta work out a way to escape."

You can tell that Jax sincerely meant it, when he'd promised he would save you from this place, and you don't doubt it for a minute.

Still, there's no denying that you two are stuck in the middle of some serious deep shit. But after having experienced such punishment and pain and pleasure, such submission and service, such sex and love with Jax Teller, today down in this cellar—which you're pretty sure would not have happened under any other circumstances ever...

"Well," you sigh, breathing in his scent for what you hope won't have to be the final time before you die, "whatever happens next, Jax, this was..."

"Definitely," he cuts in to interrupt you with a few passionate kisses, then smiles down at you so devilishly it's delicious. So hellish it's heavenly. Finishes your sentence and it's just so fucking perfect. "Fucking worth it."

***************

… Sooo I know that was SUPER kinky shit, but I hope there are some filthy bitches who enjoyed it, and would love to hear if you did!! 😅❤️

– Main Masterlist

– Dirty Little Secret Masterlist

***************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @malethirsty @coffeequeenxx @turner-cris @innerpaperexpertcloud @est11 @magic-room @littlebennettwitchsblog @snow-white-74 @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @got-to-love-a-badboy @thesimonkshow @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @travistheaussie @alexa-rae-dreamz @i-love-scott-mccall @band--psycho @helloheyhihowdyheya @beth-winchester21 @inlovewithcharliehunnam @amberembers @pedritomando @badboy86uk @scarletmeii @barbiewasacommunist @englishmuffinwritesbooks @addcrastinator3 @southrenlove @malikadnan77 @thesuicidalflower @gemini0410 @louisianalady @ravynfenyx @weasleytwins-41 @mariska0610 @zozebo @christycarnell6 @i-hav-no-life @labramusic01 @thatgirljayy @boredintheglade @guerra-e-paes @charliehunnamlove @rayslittlekitten @heyitskat101 @dilftony @velvetcardiganbucky @midnight-dreams-23 @celine-and-hafiz @romanreigns-supreme @synnersaint @writtingbyacrazyperson @norwegian-princess @itsmycorneroftheinternet @suicidepanda07 @abby-splace @gunmybear8o @luv-nd-serenity @ficsilovetoreadwithcats @missusnora @starstruckbluebirdtriumph @kesskirata @msmorganforever @jeeperky @spactucs-blog @sinnforsir @leilani-writes [hit the 50-tag limit – list to be continued in a reblog of this fic]

244 notes · View notes

dreaminpetals · 3 years

Text

💐 COMMISSION: fem s/o's wedding with andrew (sfw & nsfw) 💐

thank you so much for the commission! please consider checking out my emergency commissions here ! i hope you enjoy !

SFW ;;

♡ Andrew has always longed to marry somebody. Being a religious man, he's dreamed of filling a church with people who are dear to him as his beloved bride walks down the aisle.

♡ He's only glanced at weddings, an outsider looking in. The brides and grooms having the best nights of their lives made his heart feel fuzzy. Nobody would ever dare to wed him, but the idea was certainly a pleasant one. It helped him sleep. It comforted him when he needed it most. He wanted to look down at his hands and see a ring that reminded him someone out there loves him.

♡ He grew up with not even a penny to his name, so he knows having a luxurious wedding would be completely out of the picture for someone like him. Until he met you.

♡ You helped him get back on his feet and the two of you worked together to save up enough money for a wedding ceremony and reception, along with a honeymoon.

♡ Most honeymoons are spent lazing by the beach, but due to his body being constantly at war with sunlight, you decided to book a trip to a lovely cabin hidden away in the woods, a private place for just the two of you.

♡ He honestly thought you'd end up getting married in Red Church, surrounded by cobwebs and broken glass, but you insisted that you two would find a way to escape the manor and you'd have a proper wedding.

♡ It took months of promises and longing, but the seal keeping everyone trapped in the manor finally snapped and let everybody escape. You took Andrew's hand that day and promised him that a brighter future was upon you.

♡ Your wedding was surprisingly inexpensive. Despite your days in the manor being long gone, many of the survivors stayed in touch with you and were more than willing to help. You don't need to hire a whole team of wedding planners with the survivors by your side.

♡ Michiko and Violetta teamed up to sew you the most gorgeous dress you had ever laid eyes on.

♡ Emma designed your bouquet and enveloped the chapel in beautiful flowers.

♡ Norton prepared your rings using the finest gems he could find.

♡ Margaretha found the most wonderful songs to play and arranged dances.

♡ Vera styled your hair and Fiona did your makeup.

♡ Victor handled the invitations and did a fantastic job. So on and so forth.

♡ You and Andrew were on good terms with almost everyone, so they were all pumped to see how your wedding would play out. It was the greatest team effort they put into anything since the escape of the manor.

♡ You two had lots of practicing to do before the actual wedding. For one, Andrew didn't know table manners. You'd have to lovingly teach him gestures like how to cut his meat and how to do a toast before even daring to eat at the reception.

♡ Dancing together in your rooms was what Andrew enjoyed the most, though. Margie planned several dance routines, so you had triple the practicing to do when it came to dancing.

♡ Andrew was surprisingly agile during fast-paced dances, he loved to twirl you in the air like in a movie and dip you so low you thought you were going to crash into the ground. Each yelp only spurred him to play with you more, drinking up your reactions and getting all giddy because it's you.

♡ As for slow dancing with Mister Kreiss? You're so lucky to say you're familiar with it. He hums along to whatever music you play in the background, and puts so much love into every step or twirl that you feel like your heart might burst. It's agony waiting to dance with him in a suit and dress rather than your pajamas.

♡ You're blown away when you see the wedding venue for the first time. It's pure white with shades of red sprinkled in, the same colours Andrew has hated about himself now repurposed to be something he'd look at fondly for the rest of his life. It was beautiful. Like him.

♡ You noticed a chair with an unfamiliar name on it. When you asked Andrew who it belonged to, he answered that it was for his late mother. She would have loved to come, he said.

♡ He doesn't take the day of the wedding very well. What do you mean he can't see you until the ceremony?! He wants to greet you, kiss you, practice some extra dance moves to be extra sure... he's grumpy while the guys of the manor dress and hype him up.

♡ "Alright, let's do this! THREE CHEERS FOR OUR MAN ANDREW!" William would cheer so loudly the girls would hear it from the other side of the church and burst out into laughter.

♡ Andrew couldn't stop his hands from shaking, though. His lifelong dreams were finally being realized. The love of his life was going to marry him tonight. Willingly. He could barely believe it.

♡ As for you? You're brimming with excitement at the idea of walking down the aisle and shooting an arrow of love straight into Andrew's heart. The girls are envious of you as they powder your face and tighten the seams of your dress.

♡ "I remember when you first met that boy," Michiko would say to you as she styled your dress, beaming at you through the mirror. "You were too shy to even speak to one another... ah, young love."

♡ It took a million checks to make sure you were ready to present yourself to everybody. Your hair, makeup, dress, veil, bouquet... everything had to be absolutely perfect. It was a bit difficult having so many girls look after you, because Tracy's idea of perfect was a little bit different than Michiko's. There was a lot of playful arguing, but you knew they just wanted this day to be flawless for you.

♡ Once the petals were strewn down the halls and the bridesmaids and groomsmen made their appearances, you finally presented yourself.

♡ It took everything in Andrew to not fall to his knees when he saw you. You were angelic, your white dress cascading down your back with a stunning hairstyle he's never seen you in before. Your bouquet was made of all your favourite flowers, and he could see the perfect shade of lipstick beneath your vail. You captured Andrew's heart as he leaned onto Luca's shoulder for support.

♡ Andrew wasn't the only one who had his breath taken away. Practically everyone was gawking at you. It made Andrew feel a little... possessive, seeing everyone's eyes on you. He was going to be marrying you. Not José, not Norton, not Victor but him.

♡ All of his negative feelings disappeared the moment you were in arms reach. He extended an arm to take your hand as you gladly obliged. When he felt the fabric of your dress against his wrist, electricity shot through his body for a second time.

♡ Being able to see Andrew up close was a dream come true. His usual matted hair was thoroughly washed and brushed, it appeared as if José had lent him a hand. His usual flower was still present even as he wore a breathtaking suit. He smelled like cologne and looked so nervous but in love... you couldn't wait to finally kiss your groom.

♡ His hands trembled as he lifted your veil to reveal your features to him. You flashed him a grin and he felt his heart explode. He danced his fingers along your cheeks until they met your shoulders, which he gave an affectionate pat before turning to the priest.

♡ He had Helena help him with his vows. He wanted to blow you away, to use words you didn't think he knew. It took him days to memorize the words of love he was going to bestow upon you. You overheard him talking to himself a few times, but never guessed they were his vows.

♡ He also has some trouble with words of affection. Andrew much prefers to hold you or do favours for you.

♡ "When I first met you, I didn't think I was worthy of love. It's still hard to believe, but... I promise to return to you every affectionate gesture you give to me. I'll love you always and forever, as my angelic wife. I want to grow old with you. I vow to protect you, adore you, and care for you as long as I'm your husband. Our hearts will always be melded together and nothing will ever change that. Thank you for saving me. I love you."

♡ His vows brought some of the survivors to tears. Most of them only knew Andrew as that really quiet guy who hid behind his girlfriend a lot, so to see him spill his heart out for you made the crowd let out a sea of "awwwh"'s.

♡ His face turned scarlet and he almost wanted to run out of the building and hide once he finished speaking. He stumbled over and mispronounced a few words, but you could tell he put his whole heart into it and he meant every word he said.

♡ When he's finally able to kiss you, Andrew dips you low and assaults your entire face with kisses, treading past your lips. He doesn't care about smudging your makeup or embarrassing you, you're finally his wife and he just wants to feel your face after waiting all day to.

♡ The cheers once you become man and wife are astounding. When you tossed the bouquet it was caught by Eli and Gertrude.

♡ Demi helped to bake an enormous cake, one that's almost as tall as you. On top were little toppers meant to look like you and Andrew that you kept as mementos.

♡ The reception was definitely more of a party than the wedding was. Antonio and Margie played music for everyone to dance along to, and a karaoke session was held as well.

♡ Andrew was a little stressed out by how much noise there was, but you reminded him everyone there loved him and he melted. He's not used to all this positive attention.

♡ Your heart burst when he extended an arm and asked you to dance. You had been practicing for so long that when you finally attended the real event, it felt like a dream.

♡ For just a few minutes, nothing existed but Andrew's arms around you and the elegant music brought to you by a live band.

♡ Once all the food is eaten and gifts are exchanged, everyone bids you farewell. The girls cry when they hug you and the guys all pat Andrew on the back, wishing him good luck for... what couples do on their wedding night.

♡ When you two finally arrive home, Andrew is exhausted. He's never been to such a crowded event before, especially one where he's the main focus.

♡ He'd need to lay his head in your lap and relax as he plays with your dress. The fabric felt so pleasing under his fingers. He was so in love with every part of you. He needed to be as close to you as possible after being kept from you, and from being in public with you. He cherished alone time like this.

♡ Once he's rested up, you'd have to unpack all your gifts! Each survivor and hunter gifted you something for your domestic life with Andrew. Matching mugs, blankets, cutlery, paintings... you were drowning in presents.

♡ It took an hour, but you finally unwrapped and stored everything away.

♡ Which leads to...

NSFW ;;

♡ You and Andrew have had sex before. Maaany times. He views it as making up for lost time, it helps with his insecurities, and he enjoys making you feel good. Andrew will do everything in his power to make sure the lovemaking on your wedding night is nothing short of magical.

♡ When you're settled at home and can't think of any more chores to do, Andrew is more anxious than he's ever been. His face is red in a furious blush and he's barely able to muster a sentence as he stands stiffly, lustful eyes on you.

♡ He knows what couples are meant to do on their wedding nights, and he's so excited to make your wishes come true, but this poor boy has no idea how to initiate things. Whenever you make love, it's because he's visibly horny but too anxious to say anything so you take care of him.

♡ You approached your husband, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you stared up into his eyes. He didn't look at you or respond to your inquiry of whether he's okay or not. The growing tent in his pants spoke for itself.

♡ Your eyes widened when you felt his erection brush against your thigh. He could tell that you felt his arousal ー because he hoisted you up bridal style and pressed an openmouthed kiss to your lips. He was going to take you, and he was going to do it right.

♡ His sudden burst of confidence lead to him carrying you to your bedroom, and he gave you another kiss before gently placing you down on the bed.

♡ Andrew wouldn't know what to do next. He wants you eat you out for hours but... your dress is in the way. And he doesn't feel like taking it off just yet. No, he wants to take his sweet time with you. It's your wedding night, after all.

♡ His solution? Dry humping. He's always adored being able to rut against you like a wild animal, and getting to do so in your elegant wedding gear has him rearing to go. He doesn't want to soil your gown, no, he just wants to do something absolutely filthy in attire that's meant to be for a ceremony all about you.

♡ He would spread your legs as far as they possibly could go in your dress. When he hikes your dress up to your lower stomach and finally sees the sweet dessert laid out just for him, he's bucking his hips into the cold air for any sense of relief.

♡ He'd press his clothed cock against your panties and see stars. His lovely wife was so close to him but so far... he wasn't sure how long he could last like this.

♡ Andrew ground against you in a frenzy, arms snaking around your back as his face nestled itself in the crook of your neck, sucking sweet little kisses onto the flesh. He groaned when he rubbed against you just right, aiming to hit the same spots over and over again.

♡ He wouldn't let your needs go unnoticed. Andrew would angle himself to rub against your clit, and he'd pay special attention to your neck as he desperately got himself off with your body.

♡ The low groan that escaped from his lips as he came into his boxers went straight to between your legs. As he rode out his high, he'd push your panties aside and finish you off with his fingers before pulling away. Something about cumming before even getting his clothes off made him growl with need. And it made him desire you even more than he already did; skin to skin this time.

♡ Andrew asked you to undress him. You felt him shudder underneath you as you removed his suit and got him out of his pants. Stripping him reminded you that beneath all the cologne and hair gel, it was still your Andrew. His scarred body yearned for yours and you were more than happy to press a chaste kiss to his chest once he was undressed, your way of telling him you loved him.

♡ Your husband would ask you to sit in his lap, right on top of his aching boner just begging to be touched, and grind against it as he undid the several seams on your back.

♡ Andrew loves mirrors. He doesn't like seeing himself in them, but you? He could watch you be undressed through a mirror all day long. He thinks his hands look good when they're unbuttoning the fabric keeping him from you.

♡ You looked so radiant that Andrew would need to fuck you in front of a mirror just to truly see you.

♡ He would take his sweet time with you, for every untied string he would thrust up to grind against your clothed pussy and nibble your shoulders. Hearing you mewl in his lap causes his hands to fumble as he undresses you. He wondered just how someone could be so cute every time a moan is pulled from your throat.

♡ Andrew felt a little dejected once your dress was ready to come off. He would miss seeing you in it.

♡ ...Those feelings didn't last long, though. The moment he laid eyes on your bare body he was surging with confidence and hunger.

♡ "You look so ravishing... my... my wife..." he muttered, mostly to himself. It appeared he was still in disbelief that you were a wedded couple. Throughout the night he'd periodically mumble to himself that you were his wife, or he'd call you Mrs Kreiss. It had a lovely ring to it.

♡ Andrew wants ー no, needs ー to taste you after being away from you for so long. He would eat you out like a man starved.

♡ Positioning his face between your thighs, Andrew licked a sloppy stripe up your pussy, stopping right below your clit. Then he'd lick back down, avoiding the place where you needed him most. Your frustrated groans earned a soft chuckle from Andrew. He wanted to draw this out... he was in a playful mood.

♡ He massaged your thighs as he teased your folds, finally pulling away to ask you the question that would be the death of you. "Tell me what you want, my... wife..." his voice dropped in volume when he reached your title. He didn't care in that moment how cheesy it sounded, this was the ultimate night to be sappy with his angel.

♡ "Enough teasing, Andrew, please... eat me out," you'd weep through gritted teeth as your husband nibbled your thighs and nodded his head in response your pleas.

♡ Now that he's gotten you riled up for him (he wants to feel needed), he's not holding back. Andrew is the king of being unintentionally rough. He'd leave your core battered from how deep his licks are and how his chin smacks against your soft flesh.

♡ The moment Andrew feels you contract and twitch around him, he's slipping a wet finger into your walls to torture you further. He won't stop his ministrations even as you cum hard around him.

♡ He's extra passionate for your wedding night which translates into him not giving you a break. He doesn't want to pull away from your pussy, he wants to keep his head burrowed between your legs for as long as he possibly can. His tongue is going to commit every inch of you to memory tonight.

♡ If you really want to make this night worth your while, tackle Andrew once you feel overwhelmed and turn the tables on him.

♡ He loves when you take control and take him by surprise. One minute he was devouring you, and the next you've pushed his back against the headrest and you're lowering your head dangerously close to his cock.

♡ He wants you to feel good even as you suck him off, so Andrew will finger you while your lips are wrapped around his dick. He'll angle himself so the palm of his hand rubs against your sensitive nub. It drives him wild how sloppy your strokes and licks are when you're on the verge of cumming.

♡ He'd prefer to cum in your mouth. It's an intimate night, he doesn't want you to be completely covered in his seed just yet. He'd rather save that for the honeymoon.

♡ Chest heaving against your back, Andrew's next move is to pull you into his lap again. Remember how much he loves mirrors? He'll seat you right on his cock and direct your face with his hands to look right into the mirror across from your bed.

♡ "My wife," he'd murmur into your shoulder before snapping his hips into yours.

♡ Having Andrew's mouth so close to your ears means you'll get to hear every gasp and purr that he emits. And he makes a lot of quiet noises he tries to hide.

♡ Andrew made sure to cup a hand around your breasts and kiss your neck & lips as well. He wants to surround you. He wants all of your senses to be overtaken by him until you can't function.

♡ He would whisper praise into your ear, telling you how beautiful you look and how good you feel around him. It's not like him to be this bold and dominant but you're loving it.

♡ Andrew asked to cum inside you that night. When he finally reached his climax, he lifted you up so he could admire the string of cum connecting the husband to his wife. He was addicted to the sight and made sure to capture it in his memories for as long as he could.

♡ After several more rounds of rough licks and hard thrusts, Andrew would want something more soft and classic with you.

♡ Gently lowering you onto the mattress, Andrew would hover over you and press a tender kiss to your lips. With one long thrust, he'd fill you right up and stay like that, your hands connecting.

♡ His thrusts would be slow and sensual, making love to you rather than just fucking you. Don't be surprised if you feel hot tears drop onto your shoulders. This is one of the most sentimental moments of Andrew's whole life.

♡ Your tongues would dance as your lips locked in an intense kiss, you can tell how desperately he's trying to last and make this feel good for you.

♡ Andrew quickly repositioned himself to hit that spot inside of you. He's committed the location to memory, and wouldn't be able to live with himself if he didn't relentlessly batter it tonight.

♡ Your sudden gasps caused his thrusts to grow frantic, his hot breath fanning onto your neck as he plowed you into the mattress.

♡ You could feel his smirk on your skin when you began to pulse around him.

♡ "Good girl..." he would purr, rubbing circles on the back of your hand as you rode out your high. Hearing your cries of pure ecstasy pushed Andrew over the edge, and he emptied himself into you. You had never felt so stuffed before.

♡ Once you've decided you had enough, Andrew's entire demeanour changes. Before, he was determined to push your limits and hear your cries, while now he's insisting that you take a bath. He feels awful that he ruined your hair and makeup, plus you're littered with hickeys and your thighs are stained with seed... he doesn't know that you wouldn't have it any other way.

#andrew kreiss x reader #idv x reader #identity v imagines #andrew kreiss smut #andrew kreiss #andrew kreiss imagine

591 notes · View notes

im-in-love-with-pizza-bites · 3 years

Text

Best Parts Of Him

Sebastian Stan X Daughter!Reader

Summary: As time goes by he wants you to know that he'll be with you wherever you go, you'll always be his baby girl

Warnings: breakup, that's all I think.

Song: Best Parts of Me by Will Dempsey

A/n: The Romanian is from Google Translate it might not be right... If it isn't go ahead send me a message or an ask with the correct translation and I'll fix it thank you!

Princess is spelled prinţesă and dear/darling is dragă :)

I can still remember the first time I saw

Those brown eyes staring into mine

It was in that moment I felt a love

I never knew I would find

It's like God took my heart right out of my chest

Sebastian smiled down staring at your big doe eyes that were filled with so much innocence. He couldn't believe it, he was a dad. Not only a dad, but a dad to the most precious little thing he had ever seen. Wrapped in a pink hospital blanket, a tiny tuft of hair on your head, and most beautiful eyes he's ever seen.

"Oh bless you." He cooed as you let out a tiny sneeze. He was in love, you owned his heart now he swears. He's never loved anyone or anything as much as the little baby in his arms. "Aren't you just the most precious thing. I love you." He placed his lips onto your forehead before looking back at your face.

"I'm gonna teach you everything I know. And your gonna know Romanian. Asta e corect prinţesă." He finished in his mother tongue. (That's right princess)

And wrapped it all up in a little pink dress

And painted the most beautiful smile in the world

And topped it all of it with brown hair and curls

The day he made my baby girl

Sebastian took a deep breath before knocking on the door holding the sunflowers in front of him. He could hear giggling from the other side of the door before it was opened.

You were in your room with your grandmother before you heard the doorbell. You looked up at your grandma smiling.

"Go on." She urged. You went running out of the room giggling once you made it to the living room. Opening the door you saw your dad holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Yes daddy!!" You jumped up and down smiling. He chuckled.

"Prinţesă, can I take you to the daddy daughter dance?" He asked kneeling to look 6 year old you in the eye. He couldn't help but hope you'd always be this tiny little girl. His little princess.

"These are for you dragă."

"Thank you."

'Cause the best parts of me were given to you

And I hope that all of your dreams come true

And as time goes by

I want you to know that I'll be with you wherever you go

You'll always be my baby girl

"And the winner is-" You crossed your fingers and looked down at your dad who was sat in the audience. "Y/n Stan, with her dance act!" The principal announced. You smiled stepping forward.

"Here's your prize." The drama teacher came onto the stage with the prize, it was a fifty dollar toys R us gift card.

You found your way in the lobby of your school looking for your dad. He was stood next to your grandparents, holding a bouquet of flowers. You smiled hugging him.

"I won." You said proudly.

"Good job dragă."

She's as sweet as the syrup

She dripped on her dress

Won't leave the house if her hair is a mess

"Daad! It looks terrible I can't go to school like this." You said motioning to the lopsided braids.

"Hey little missy I'm trying my best." He said. "It does look pretty bad though doesn't it?"

"Yeah it does. Just pull it back up in pony tail daddy." You grumbled crossing your arms.

"How about pig tails?"

"Fine just get them even." You sassed. He gasped.

"Hey sassy mcsass I'll leave your hair like this."

"Sorry dad." You leaned up placing a kiss on his cheek.

"That's what I thought."

You should see her dancing when she thinks she's alone

Or the snap she sends me from her mama's phone

And I've made so many mistakes in my life

At least I did one thing right, my baby girl

Sebastian did his best to hold in his laughter as he watched you belting out to music. Doing a funny dance, holding you hairbrush like a microphone. He pulled his phone out and began filming.

"You held me down, but I got up already brushing off the dust." You sang along. "You hear my voice, you hear that sound."

"Like thunder, gonna shake the ground." Sebastian joined. You screamed turning around dropping the hair brush. "You held me down, but I got up." He motioned for you to keep singing. You smiled joining in.

"Get ready 'cause I've had enough, I see it all, I see it now."

"I got the eye of the tiger, a fighter, dancing through the fire, 'cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar." You two sang together. "Louder, louder than a lion, 'cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar."

'Cause the best parts of me were given to you

And I hope that all your dreams come true

And as time goes by

I want you to know that I'll that I'll be with you wherever you go

You'll always be my baby girl

A scream was heard through the penthouse. Sebastian jumped to his feet running out of his office toward the sound. Almost falling a few times before he made it to the living room, more importantly by the door. He sees you a big smile on your face, hugging a piece of paper to your chest other mail scattered on the floor around your feet. He immediately felt relief seeing you okay.

"What happened?" He asked walking closer careful to not step on the other mail.

"I got in!" You said looking at him with such joy he has never seen before.

"In what?" He smiled.

I got in my dream school!!!" You exclaimed. He gasped hugging you.

"I'm so proud of you!" He said. His baby girl all grown up, leaving for college this summer.

There'll be some hard times you'll face in this life

Just say the word and I'm by your side

And all those bandaids and heartbreaks and days that go wrong

You'll never face them alone

Sebastian was confused, you had been away at college for about three months, it was November now. He wasn't expecting you to come home until Thanksgiving, but you called him told him you'd be home for the weekend and staying during Thanksgiving break. He didn't know why though. You told him you were having a Friendsgiving with your roommate and some other friends you made at college this weekend then you'd start heading down the next morning. Though you called him Friday and told him you were on your way. So Saturday morning he was up and watching for you to get there.

"Dad?" You hollered walking into the penthouse. He came around the corner frowning when he saw you. What looked like dried tears on your cheeks and his old college hoodie you stole from him when you were 7, a clear sign you were sad.

"Dragă? What happened?" He immediately brought you into a hug. You broke, you tried all night to stay strong but here you were. You never could stay strong around your dad.

"H-he broke up with me." You choked out. He knew who you were talking about, your boyfriend Kevin. You and Kevin had been dating during senior year of high school and decided to try to take a chance at long distance.

"Oh prinţesă." He mumbled.

"He met someone new!" You cried. "I wasn't good enough."

"Hey. No, you don't talk about yourself like that." He pulled away putting his hands on your shoulders. "Ești perfect, frumos, nu vorbești rău despre tine! A intelege?" You knew he was serious when he broke out the Romanian. It was rare for him to talk to you in Romanian, it was more common for you two to talk to your grandmother in Romanian but it was only pulled out for you when you were in trouble. (You are perfect, beautiful, you don't speak ill of yourself! Understand?)

"da tată." You responded hugging him again. Your dad always could make you feel better. (Yes dad)

'Cause those best parts of me

Will never leave you

Wherever you go

Whatever you do

And if there comes a time

When I'm not around

You know where I'll be found

My baby girl

My baby girl, oh

A/n: I love this song, I found it on tiktok and think it's beautiful. Also, I think I perfected the songfic? With it in bold and italic while also indented. What do you think?

#Spotify #teen!reader #x daughter!reader #x teen!reader #daughter!reader #sebasstan #sebastian stan x teen!reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x daughter!reader #sexy seabass #mcu #bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan fic #songfic

227 notes · View notes

p-antomime · 3 years

Text

dawn addiction.

— minors don't interact.

— wc: 3,3K

content + warnings: 18+, including: car sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, public sex (kinda of), unprotected sex, tummy bulge, pet names (dabi actually calls the reader "princess"), virginity loss (only mentioned), i bit of fluff bye

pairings: no quirk!dabi x fem!reader

— song: Press Your Number; by TAEMIN

After waking up alone one dark night without you sleeping next to him in the spacious bed placed in the middle of his room, Dabi catches himself thinking about you and feeling strange without having your warm body next to his in the bed. Thinking about Y/N was becoming a vicious habit for him and it was the kind of addiction that the more he fed, the more it seemed to swallow his sanity. However, he didn't blame you for not wanting to be seen or related to him, in a small town like the two of you Touya was the delinquent that people avoided interacting with lest they be excluded from that closed society.

He stretches to the side in order to get his own phone from the small table placed on the side of his bed and finds himself standing there for a few seconds feeling the smell of your body that permeated the pillow next to him. After taking a deep inhale, Dabi unlocks his cell phone to try to call you, but there is no answer, after all, it was past 1:00 AM in the dawn and Y/N was now probably lying in her own bed in her house trying to sleep.

The dark haired man lets out an impatient grunt before dropping the cell phone on the bed. He was deeply rooted in you and, because of that, feeling like an insane madman who was insisting on something that couldn't be his. But what could he do but fall in love with you after kissing your lips countless times and spreading your legs dangerously wide for him before claiming your virginity as his?

And the end of that night, just like all the others where you would finish fucking and you would shamefully put on your clothes to go home, would be filled by him masturbating with the thought of your naked body running through his mind.

Touya could feel the warm temperature of yours with little mental effort with his own fingers and would cling to the fading memories of the few non-sexual moments you had shared over the past few months.

That night, Dabi slept when the sun was already up, but Y/N, on the other hand, didn't even sleep a wink. She couldn't even take a lousy nap, because her eyes were glued to her cell phone screen waiting to see if he would call her again because on the first call of the night she wasn't brave enough to answer knowing that her parents were half a wall away. A coward? Yes, that's what she was. But there was a perfect daughter demeanor that she needed to maintain, especially if she wanted to continue to nurture her father's idea of letting her start studying at a university in the metropolitan area of the country.

Y/N would turn twenty a week from today — and if her father's promise to give you a car came true, her plan was already halfway done — and she didn't want to be stuck in that small, rural town forever. She had big dreams, and, ironically, in most of them the fulminating image of Dabi was present beside her. What if she was the only one there who wanted to leave that life? What if he didn't want to leave with her? But more importantly, at what point had their relationship become so deep?

It was now 7 o'clock in the morning, which meant that in about two hours your parents would wake up to go to work. You took a deep breath and reached out to grab the cell phone lying next to you on the bed, and then began to type a message as brief and vague as possible to your lover:

"Pack up all your stuff by next Friday. Take everything that you think is important or of value to you, pack it up, and meet me on the other side of the bridge that leads to the avenue out of town, the side that has the rusty 'Welcome to our town' sign. At two o'clock in the morning. No delays. And please try not to draw too much attention, wear the most decent, neutral clothes you have in your closet. Oh, and bring documents."

And all week long you could barely look your parents in the face without feeling guilty for wanting to break free from their protective arms, but you just couldn't take it anymore. You hated that small town, and you also hated being forced to go to church every Thursday and Sunday with your mother because she said that God would "bless you with all your dreams come true," so why didn't he just indirectly help you leave that town behind? Literally, the only thing holding you back in that town was Touya and you wanted to take him with you outside the boundaries of that town that looked more like a village forgotten by the rest of the world.

Y/N's favorite place to be was Dabi's lips, and even then, the girl's replies to him by messages and short calls that didn't last more than 5 minutes started to decrease drastically. The useless monologues continue to increase inside her mind. Until the Thursday before her birthday when Y/N was about to fall asleep after standing for almost 2 hours listening to the local church mass hoping that her mother would not notice her slouching and irritable posture, suddenly a sound of something banging against her bedroom window was heard. And initially she didn't bother to get up to find out what had caused the noise, until she heard it twice more and frowned as she got out of bed after seeing that it was almost two o'clock in the dawn.

You drew the curtains in front of the window, opened it and stuck your head out, looking down and suddenly feeling your cheeks heat up violently. And there was Touya looking at you with a look of sorrow and animosity. He pointed in the direction of the hidden backyard behind your house where the two of you in the beginning of your relationship used to hide just to spend some time together or have a make-out session that ended up leaving both of you sexually frustrated because neither of you had the courage to have sex in that place where anyone could see you if you made too much noise. However, Dabi was the devil in your life worth sinning for.

— What the fuck are you doing here? — Y/N asked almost desperately as she felt Touya wrap one of his arms around her waist to glue their bodies together.

— What? Can't a man miss his beloved and want to go see her? — He asked, holding her face with his free hand. — You barely answer my messages.

— I told you we were going to meet tomorrow, on Friday. — You rested your hands on his chest to move away just enough to look him in the face.

— And about that, you're killing me with curiosity, princess. What are you thinking of doing tomorrow? It's your birthday. — Dabi commented, running his thumb along her bottom lip affectionately.

— I-I know. — You replied, looking away. — I was planning on... going out... with you. — You just didn't say it was going to be an out-of-town trip with no intention of coming back.

— What are you hiding? — He asked, leaning down to place a simple, tender kiss on her lips.

— Would you follow me wherever I went?

— I would follow you to the ends of hell if you asked me to. — Dabi answered, and instinctively you grabbed his face to place your lips back on theirs in a kiss deeper than the one before in a frenzy of feeling.

— Then do it. — Y/N whispered against his lips staring into his beautiful turquoise eyes. — For my birthday the only thing I ask from you is to always be by my side, I don't need material gifts.

Seconds after you finished speaking, the sound of footsteps inside your house could be heard, and a shiver ran down your back as your hands desperately pushed Dabi away in the direction of the very door through which the two of you had entered the yard.

— Damn, not even at dawn I... — Touya began to complain as he walked briskly away from you and disappeared into the darkness of the night to return to his house.

— Shhh, shut up. I'll see you at dawn. Two o'clock, don't forget. — You whispered loud enough for him to hear you as you turned back and faced the back door of your house slowly opening to reveal to you the sleepy figure of your father.

— Honey? — He asked, and you gasped as if you were distracted by something while you could hear your heart beating rapidly. — What are you doing out here? It's late? and cold, you might catch cold.

— I... — Y/N looked around just to make sure there was no more sign of Dabi. — I heard a noise here when I went down to get some water and just wanted to come down and see if it wasn't an animal or something. But it was nothing, I guess it was just my mind playing with me. — It was a good enough lie considering that it wasn't hard to wake up during the night to go to the bathroom or eat something from the fridge.

And then your father called you inside and you promptly went. As the day went on, not even your father's birthday present with the car seemed to quell the anxiety inside you of going to see Dabi in the middle of the night with no intention of coming home. Y/N packed three backpacks and after watching your parents go to sleep, put them all on the back seats of the car after grabbing the keys that your father had left on top of the coffee table in the living room, and also grabbing some money from your father's safe that was in a secluded room in the residence.

After writing a short, albeit long, letter explaining to her mother that she was going to the metropolitan city — but without saying with whom — to try a new life there and that you would be fine because "there were friends waiting for you there" — which was a big lie, but she didn't need to know that — Y/N put on a sweatshirt and ran out of her now former home. Remembering all the various driving lessons her mother had made her take last year, you put the key in the ignition and made sure that your license and other documents were in one of the pockets of the three backpacks on the back seats. And you set off across town to reach the end of the bridge that served as both a gateway into and out of the city, parking exactly beside the welcome sign.

After about fifteen minutes, you watched a silhouette approach through the darkness, and if you didn't recognize the blue-toned sweatshirt with white details that Dabi usually wore when he didn't want to attract attention, you would surely lock yourself inside your car for fear that it was some sexual predator. Before he could finish approaching you at the agreed upon spot and open his mouth to vocalize something, you ran toward him to jump into his arms and kiss him fervently like you hadn't done in almost two weeks. He didn't fight your grip and responded to your display of affection instantly, he missed your touch more than he would admit.

— Where are we going? — He asked, analyzing her new car as he watched you open the back seat door and gestured for him to put his own belongings inside.

— To the big city. — You answered unlocking the door next to the driver's seat after hearing Dabi choke on his own saliva looking at you as if he hadn't heard you correctly. — Come in. — Your head swiveled inward.

— What do you mean we're going to the city? What about your parents? You have a loving family here, I have nothing to lose, but you? — Dabi put one hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

— I want to go to the city. I want to live with you. — Y/N replied feeling her cheeks heat up and looking at him expectantly. — You said you would go anywhere with me, to the ends of hell.

— And I will, but this decision... — You interrupted him.

— Please. For once in my life I want to do things my way. Without having to hide you from anyone, without having anyone judge me for being with you. Let's go to another city, live together, we'll figure it out when we get there. — You put one hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently.

Touya took a few seconds to process the information and after looking from you to the car, he said:

— Where are the keys? — You waved them in front of him, flashing an amused smile. — So get in the car, doll face. I'll drive. — He gave you a light slap on the butt before pushing you toward the driver's seat, getting into the car and putting the key in the ignition. — How long until we reach the city?

— About six hours, we can get there in the morning.

— Great. — Dabi started the car and began to drive along the deserted road while resting one hand on Y/N’s covered thigh and occasionally giving the area a gentle squeeze.

After about an hour of driving, you became distracted by fiddling with your cell phone until you noticed his long fingers sneaking up and over your thighs until they came dangerously close to Dabi's real intended destination. Her eyes cast a serious countenance at him as if she were silently saying: "Don't you dare" and in response his lips parted in a defiant smile as his hand on the steering wheel slowed and eventually brought the car to a full stop.

— C'mon. It's been almost two weeks since we had sex. — He said, lowering the two seats you were sitting on and pulling you to sit on his lap with your back against the steering wheel.

— And the best place you could find to have sex was inside my new car? — Despite your complaint, you didn't try to restrain his hands from reaching into your sweatshirt to grab and squeeze your breasts, nor did you object to the feeling of his knee pressing against the middle of your legs.

Touya lifts your arms and pulls up your sweatshirt and then concentrates on removing the simple tank top and lacy bra you were wearing, shortly after which he leans over your body to take one of your nipples between his lips to begin stimulating it. In response, you rub your hips against his leg as your hands grip his dark hair as a way to relieve the growing tension settling through your body. His hands slowly slid down your back, past your waist and into your pants, while his right hand also invaded your panties to run his fingers over your pussy lips and his left was busy opening the buttons of that garment.

Y/N put her hands on the hem of his sweatshirt, pulled it up, and was not surprised to see him with nothing underneath. Strangely enough, his skin was naturally too warm and it was not hard to believe that even with the low temperature outside the car he would only need a casual sweatshirt to not feel cold. And that was exactly why you liked so much to run your hands along his body exploring him calmly to make your touches last longer.

Dabi turned his body so that you were lying on the passenger seat and stood over you with a smug smile as his hands dug in and squeezed the skin of your legs after he finished getting rid of your pants with some difficulty because of the tight space.

— Keep your legs open for me or I won't let you cum, princess. — He whispered, sliding his mouth down her torso to her pelvis and pulling her hips up as high as possible before burying his fingers inside her pussy and enveloping her clit with his lips.

Y/N's hands gripped Touya's now messy hair and pushed his face against her hip in search of more of that mind-blowing pleasure she had missed for the few days she had been avoiding him. Suddenly the car became extremely hot, almost to the point where you both felt suffocated and ironically neither of you cared about that, not when Dabi was curving his fingers and sucking your clit in the way that always made your vision cloud and too loud moans escape your mouth. But, you didn't want to cum in his mouth, so your hands moved his face away from your hips and pulled his body up.

— Please, Touya, I need you inside me. — Her voice was slurred by her rapid breathing.

Dabi didn't need you to say anything else, he just stepped back briefly to get rid of the clothes that were still covering his lower body, adjusted your hips to his, leaned on the car door behind your body and guided his cock to the entrance of your pussy. As you felt him fill and enlarge you completely with his tip rubbing against your cervix, you groaned, leaning on his shoulders to face him and watching the small rise against your belly that was always present when that black haired man penetrated you.

Touya slid one hand down your neck and closed his fingers around your neck applying just the right amount of pressure to make waves of pleasure run through your body and not to hurt you. He began to move and Y/N passed her legs around his waist moving her body downward every time Dabi moved upward, occasionally he would take her lips on his just because he liked to feel her moans against his mouth and the rhythm of his hips gradually began to get harder and faster.

— I should cum inside you, hmm? — Touya asked, keeping eye contact with you every moment he thrust inside you again and making you clench your walls around his length without you even realizing it. — Damn, I love you so much, you have no idea what I would do for you.

— So show me. — You grabbed the wrist of his hand that was still resting on your neck and squeezed it without too much force. — Make me your girl.

With a smug and satisfied smile, he continued thrusting himself against her insides to the point where her hips began to ache just seconds before she reached her own orgasm with her nails digging into the skin of Touya's arm and her back arching as spasms coursed through her entire body at a high rate of speed. He gave a few thrusts against your pussy until the white streaks of cum painted your insides and slowly pulled out of you, wanting to prolong the feeling of having you squeeze him some more.

Dabi let his tired body fall back against the driver's seat and concentrated on stabilizing his breathing while you did the same as you looked up at him with the following thought running through your mind: "This is definitely the man I want to be with forever". The thought made your cheeks burn and it didn't go unnoticed by him:

— What? — One of his eyebrows arched.

— Nothing, I was just thinking... about you, about us. — You answered, starting to look around the car for your clothes, and an amused laugh came from Touya's mouth, who looked at you tenderly.

— So I'm always on your mind?

— More than you think, yes. — Y/N answered, leaning over to place a tender kiss at the corner of his lips. — Now get ready, get your clothes, let's get back on the road.

— Can we fuck again before we get to the city again? — Her eyes narrowed in disapproval.

— Shut up, you idiot.

#dabi smut #bnha smut #mha smut #my hero acadamy #boku no hero academia #bnha touya #touya smut #bnha dabi #mha dabi #i4nanami #bnha toya #touya todoroki #dabi x oc #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #bnha

206 notes · View notes

mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I��m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

213 notes · View notes